Champions of the Two Worlds
by mugglesftw
Summary: When Arthas seized the Frozen Throne, he cast aside both his humanity and the remnants of Ner'zhul. The Guardian sealed away the spirit of the former Lich King in another world, entrusting them to Albus Dumbledore. Now, however, Ner'zhul has ensnared a new host: Lord Voldemort. With two worlds threatened, heroes are brought to Azeroth to cast down both Lich Kings once and for all.
1. The Chosen Three

Harry Potter awoke with a groan, forcing himself onto his hands and knees. He looked around and coughed. What had happened? The last thing he remembered, he'd fallen into the trap door Fluffy had been guarding and into a black pool. This place didn't look like the forbidden corridor at all. He coughed again, unable to catch his breath. The air seemed thick with some sort of crimson gas or smog, and Harry struggled to breath. He tried to call out for help, but only made a gasping sound.

Suddenly, from the corner, he heard a shuffling sound.

"Hello?" Harry said, trying to push his glasses up on his forehead. Then he coughed again, the choking red fog filling his lungs.

The shuffling sound came again, and a creature stepped into the dim red light. Harry scooted away in panic. It had a maw full of razor sharp teeth, and four legs that seemed to be spikes. It let out a chittering screech, then charged.

Harry pressed himself against the smooth steel wall, beginning to cough and cry in panic. Just as the creature was about to reach him, the steel above Harry bent, then shattered inward, sending the creature back.

"Vindicator, I heard something in here," an oddly accented voice called. "Survivor maybe, and one of those mutated ravagers."

A thing in glowing armor plate stepped through the hole it made over Harry. It had no shoes, instead standing atop of black hooves. A tail poked out from the rear of the plate armor, which was set with glowing purple crystals. The thing raised a large warhammer made of more purple crystal. "Begone, foul beast."

The spike creature let out a warbling wail, then charged the warrior. The hammer came down in a thunder of warm yellow light, crushing the chitinous armor of the beast. It fell in a pool green icor onto the ground, dead.

The warrior turned to Harry, and the young boy almost cried out in alarm. It's face was blue, and covered with bristly black hair, as well as blue tentacles that were bound by a leather thong into a sort of beard. Its eyes glowed with an inner blue light, but they were warm and kind.

"What are you, small one?" the warrior rumbled.

Harry was too weak and out of breath to answer, and he was picked up by the warrior's strong arms. The creature hoisted Harry up through the hole, handing him off to a slimmer, more feminine blue creature who was dressed in silver robes with blue crystals sewn in. "Anchorite, this thing looks to be a child. A blood elf, perhaps?"

The female took Harry in her arms, waving a hand over him. A glowing symbol appeared on her forehead between two horns, and Harry felt warmth suffuse his body. He stopped coughing, suddenly feeling much healthier.

"Are you an elf, child?" the blue creature asked in a warm, soft voice.

"I'm a human being," Harry answered. "I'm not an elf."

"Human?" the larger male in armor asked. "Is that not the name of those strangers on the far shore of Azuremyst?"

The female set Harry down, and he found he could easily stand. He pushed his glasses up, peering at the two strange creatures.

"What are you?" he asked. "Who are you?"

"I am Vindicator Maraad of the Hand of Argus," the huge male answered, getting down on one knee to look Harry in the eye. "This is Anchorite Ysel, also of the Hand of Argus. We are draenei. Tell me, little human, how did you end up in one of the shards of the Exodar?"

"I do not know," Harry said. "I remember falling into a black pool. I was trying to stop Professor Snape from obtaining the Philosopher's Stone. He's an evil wizard."

"A wizard?" Maarad looked up at Ysel and frowned. "Odd."

"Vindicator!" a new voice called.

Harry gasped in amazement as another draenei rode up on what resembled a small elephant with four tusks. The rider waved to the three. "Vindicator, have you found the boy?"

Maarad stood, glancing at Harry. "Yes, Kessel. I have a boy, but how did you know this?"

"The Prophet, he sent word," Kessel said. "He is wanted in the Exodar at once, as are you, Vindicator."

Maarad nodded, hoisting his warhammer. "Very well. Then we must leave at once. Come, young human. It seems you have been expected."

Harry rode with Vindicator Maraad upon the back of the elekk, which was what the odd elephant like creature was. Beside them rode Ancorite Ysel on an elekk of her own, though hers was not as odd as the Vindicator's. Maraad had summoned his elekk with some really impressive magic, while Ysel had taken hers from Kessel, the draenei who had brought words of Harry's summons.

"So where are we?" Harry asked, looking around. "This doesn't look like England or Scotland."

"In truth, I do not know much," Maraad answered. "We crash landed here after the Blood Elves attacked us in the Netherstorm. We call the isle we have just left Bloodmyst, while this is Azuremyst. We have been here only nine days, and are still searching for survivors amidst the wreckage. Still, it appears we may be safe from the Burning Legion and their allies for now. Tell me, Harry Potter, what do you know of this world?"

"Um, I don't know either," Harry admitted. "I've never seen anything like this. It all looks so weird."

"Perhaps we should ask the furbolgs about the boy," Ysel said. "Maybe they know something. It is on the way."

"I will not delay our journey for even a moment," Maraad proclaimed. "When the Prophet calls, we must answer."

"Who is the Prophet?" Harry asked. "Is he some sort of priest?"

"He is the head of my order," Ysel said. "Prophet Velen, Chosen of the Light and Speaker for the Naaru. He is the leader of our people."

"He has shepherded the draenei across the stars for 25000 years," Maraad stated. "He is gifted with visions of the future. We have fled from many worlds. Draenor was not the first home our people have been forced to abandon. Perhaps here in this land, we will at last find allies to challenge the Burning Legion."

"I just want to go home," Harry said, feeling very small and alone. "I'm scared."

"Fear not, little one," Ysel said. "The Light is with us. The draenei do not turn their backs upon those in need."

"We shall deliver you to the Prophet safely young one," Maraad swore. "There, perhaps, he will know where you belong."

"I miss my friends," Harry said, sniffing and rubbing away a tear. "I don't know what happened to them. Do you think they're OK?"

"The Prophet will know," Ysel said gently. "And if they are anywhere on these isles, we will find them. Many teams are looking even now. Should any draenei find your companions, they will be well cared for."

The ride to the Exodar took many hours, long even into the night. Ysel and Maraad could make their weapons glow to light their path with a soft yellow light. Along the way they met other draenei, some mounted on elekks, others walking. Many were armed and armored in the strange crystalline gear that Maraad and Ysel wore.

"Are you fighting someone?" Harry asked. "Everyone looks like they are ready to fight."

"We must remain vigilant," Maraad rumbled. "Demons and Blood Elves still pursue us, and the beasts of the isles have been driven mad by the corruption from the shards of the Exodar. Still, it seems safe enough here now. My fellow vindicators and I have cleansed much of the dangers from Azuremyst."

At last, near midnight, the small party approached a towering crystalline structure that glowed with purple light.

"Wow," Harry gasped, looking up in amazement. "Is that the Exodar?"

"Indeed," Ysel said. "Though I confess, she has lost much of her former glory. She is battle weary, but she brought us safely to these lands."

"It looks like some sort of spaceship, but magic or something," Harry mused.

"The Exodar is a ship of the stars, fueled by the Holy Light of the Naaru O'ros. We have journeyed far from Draenor to arrive upon these lands," Maraad said. "Come, we must make haste."

As the approached, Harry saw more and more draenei, all hurrying about with large bundles or setting up structures. Harry also saw creatures that looked like draenei but seemed somehow wrong. Instead of the alien but nobel visages of the draenei, these others seemed somehow more foul.

"What are those?" Harry asked, pointing to one of the creatures as it wearily trudged along bearing a sack of rubble.

Maraad shifted uncomfortably in the saddle, and Ysel drew her mount close so she could speak in a low tone. "They are the Broken. Twisted by orc weapons, the Light has left them. We do not speak of their affliction, it is impolite. Pity them, but do not insult them. They have lost much."

"It is what we all fear we could become," Maraad said quietly. "Their lack of faith is a warning to us all."

Ysel looked like she wanted to correct Maraad, but she only bowed her head and pulled her mount away.

Harry was exhausted by the time they began the descent into the Exodar's main chambers, but the wonders around him helped keep his eyes open. There were many of the broken here, working with shovels and pickaxes to clear rubble and repair damage. They were supervised by uncomfortable looking draenei, who were using some sort of magic to help the broken. They could levitate larger rocks, or channel some sort of energy into damaged places that seemed to fix it.

"So you have wizards too?" Harry asked Maraad. "I'm a wizard you know."

"We have mages, yes," Maraad answered. "Few of the high masters of the arcane who have earned the title of wizard survived. I take it you have some mage training yourself?"

"I learned how to levitate feathers and make potions," Harry answered.

"Ah, good, useful skills. Alchemists and those who can lighten loads will always have work for their skills. Perhaps you are destined to be an apprentice of one of our own. However, that is for the Prophet to decide," Maraad told Harry. "Ah, here we are. The Seat of the Naaru."

Maraad and Ysel dismounted, Maraad's elek vanishing into sparks of light, and Ysel handing hers over to a stable hand. Both walked to the edge of the raised platform they were on, then bowed, placing their hands over their faces as the strange symbol glowed on their foreheads.

Harry followed, and as he approached, he heard a sound like wind chimes. It was a joyful, melodic sound, though it somehow also seemed weary. Harry looked down, and beheld the most beautiful creature he had ever seen. It was made of glowing blue crystal and looked like an enormous, rotating crystalline christmas tree. However, it radiated a soft, warm light, that filled Harry's heart and soul with joy and peace. He could tell the crystal was watching him, and that gaze was full of light. He felt tears on his face, and sank to his knees, basking in the light of the being.

 _Welcome, Harry Potter. Here, you are safe. Here, you are loved. Walk in the Light, child, and all shall be well._

"I can hear its voice," Harry said, his voice raw and ragged. "It's so beautiful."

"It is an honor to be spoken to by the Naaru," Ysel said quietly. "Be glad, young human. Look, O'ros has marked you as one of his own."

Harry's eyes tried to cross to see the glowing mark that appeared on his forehead. After a moment though, it faded. The sense of peace remained though, and Harry felt for perhaps the first time in his entire life that someone actually wanted him for who he was. Not because he was famous, or his parents were brave, or because he was good at something, but because they loved him wholly and completely. Harry wept openly, and the passing draenei smiled at him.

"Archenon poros," many murmured, bowing to Harry.

Once Harry had composed himself, he stood with Ysel and Maraad, who led him down a long ramp to the inner chambers of the Exodar. Though the hour was late, there were many draenei at work still. It was not noisy, however. Each individual seemed to have a unity of purpose and desire as they worked to the song of the naaru. There were quiet conversations and grunts of strain, but the whole atmosphere was one of peace and calm, despite the obvious recent disaster.

From the main chamber they turned off to another filled with warm yellow light. Here, there was a sense of forbidding. Large glowing purple figures stood menacingly. Some had bat like wings and talons, others were tall brutes with wicked bared blades.

"What are they?" Harry asked, trembling slightly and hiding behind Ysel's skirts.

"The Burning Legion," Ysel snarled, and for the first time Harry heard a negative emotion from the draenei. Her voice was full of anger and malice, and her eyes seemed to burn with hatred as she glared at the images. "Our ancient foes. Usurpers and destroyers all of them. They must be destroyed. We keep these images here to train new recruits, and teach them the weapons of the enemy."

"We are Draenei, for we are the faithful exiled," Maraad said, standing before an image that looked eerily similar to him, save for the signs of corruption and spikes that jutted from the image. "Once, we were Eradar of Argus. Our brothers and sisters were led to their doom by the Betrayer and the Deceiver. They listened to the lies of Sargeras, and they fell. Be warned, young human. The universe is at war, a war between Shadow and Light. See that you do not fall to the darkness."

"Never," Harry swore. "I'll always be in the Light."

"That is good. Come. The Prophet awaits." Maraad turned away from the image of the demon, but Harry lingered for a moment longer. Was this what Voldemort wanted to become? He didn't know, and hurried after Maraad and Ysel.

As they ascended a staircase made of crystal that seemed to float in the air, the Song of the Naaru once more swelled. Harry felt almost as though he was ascending into heaven, and his heart seemed to burst with joy. At the top, Harry saw several draenei standing at attention in full armor, more ornate and thick than Maraad's. Behind them on a raised dais sat perhaps the oldest being Harry had ever seen.

Dumbledore had been old, to be sure, a venerable wizard who had seen more than a century. But this creature was truely ancient. His long white beard was suffused with light, his forehead crest tall and wrinkled. His eyes though were what made him seem truly ancient. They were milky white, but seemed to glow slightly. He looked as though he should be blind, but his eyes never wavered from Harry as he approached.

"Ah, the child has arrived," the ancient said.

Maraad and Ysel fell to one knee before the dias. "Prophet, we have come as asked," Maraad said.

Harry copied their gesture, filled with awe to be in the presence of such an ancient being. Despite his age though, the Prophet seemed to radiate a calm, quiet power, much as Dumbledore did. However, where Dumbledore was a pillar of strength, the Prophet seemed to be an ocean. Deep, vast, and unknowable to mortal minds.

The Prophet stood, towering over Harry. The boy nearly had to avert his eyes, so overwhelming was the force of the draenei's strength. "Peace, young one. I am Prophet Velen, leader of the Draenei and Servant of the Light. You are Harry Potter, are you not?"

"I am," Harry said, liking dry lips as his voice trembled.

"Rise, all of you. We have much to discuss."

Harry and his companions stood, while Velen sank back into his chair. To Harry's surprise, it wasn't a throne or made of some shimmering crystal, but an old wooden stool with a worn padded cushion on it. It didn't look exceptionally comfortable even, just somewhere for an old man to rest upon.

"Please, somewhere to sit for my guests," Velen said, nodding to the guards. Stools were retrieved from nearby, and placed for Harry and the others to sit upon. Harry had to perch upon his stool, which was rather tall, but then again he felt very small next to the draenei.

"Harry Potter. I was given a vision of your arrival. You, like us, are not from this world," Prophet Velen said. "Tell me, where are you from?"

"I'm from England. On Earth," Harry said. "I was going to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. But Professor Snape was trying to steal the Philosopher's Stone and resurrect Voldemort, an evil wizard who killed my parents."

"Yes...yes I see," Prophet Velen said, stroking his beard. "But it seems now your fate, and that of your world, will be decided here, first. Perhaps, young human, we can aide one another in that."

/\\\/\/\\\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/

The first thing Ron Weasley knew was that he was cold, and that he wasn't at Hogwarts anymore. Shivering, the young wizard sat up and looked around. Where was he? The last thing he remembered was jumping into that black pool with Harry and Hermione, but he didn't see them. He stood up, shivering almost uncontrollably. He looked around, and saw he was on a small mound of grass and rock surrounded by pine trees. The sun was setting, and a chill wind was blowing.

"Bloody fantastic," Ron said through chattering teeth. He looked around for his wand, but he must have lost it. Where was he? He got out of the wind, finding a small cave to curl up in. He gathered some sticks and bark from the trees, but he was lost as to how to make a fire.

"Come on, come on," Ron muttered, trying to rub sticks together like the muggles were supposed to do. "Burn! Incenda! Fire! Smoke! ARRGH!" He slammed the sticks together, and a small spark burst out.

"Reth?" the spark said.

Ron blinked, falling back on his haunches. However, as a wizard, a talking spark was not the oddest thing he had ever seen, so he cupped it in his hands. "I don't suppose you'd mind burning this for me, would you? Please?"

"Reth reth reth," the spark said, leaping onto the branches. Soon, Ron had a neat little fire going. Warmth filled the cave, and though he was hungry and exhausted, Ron felt pleased.

He sat in the cave for hours, listening to the calls of beasts and the wind and feeling sorry for himself.

"Thanks for the fire," he told the little spark which was dancing in the flames. "Reth is it?"

"Reth reth reth," the spark declared, swirling about.

"Thanks mate, but you don't know where I am, do you?"

"Aye, yer lost ya are laddie," a female voice with a thick scottish accent.

Ron blinked at the fire. "Huh. I didn't know fires were Scottish."

"What's a scottish?" the voice said again, and Ron looked up as a short woman in leather armor with blue face-paint stepped into his little hole.

"Oh, sorry, I thought you were Reth here," Ron said, pointing to the fire.

The little spark seemed to bow to the visitor. "Reth reth reth."

The woman nodded, peering into the flames. "Ack, that's a right fine fire elemental ye've managed to bind there lad. The spirits told me I would find a powerful young shaman here, and looks like I have. I must admit though, I did no' expect it to be a wee human."

"Fire elemental?" Ron asked. "Shaman? I'm no shaman, I'm a wizard."

"Oh, ye from Dalaran are ye then? Long way from home, lad. Where are yer parents?" the woman asked.

"What's Dalaran? And I suppose mum and dad are back at the Burrow in England. We can't be far from Hogwarts though if we're still in Scotland, right?" Ron asked.

"This is no Scotland," the woman said, stomping her foot on the earth to emphasise the point. "This here is the Hinterlands, home of the Wildhammer Clan. I'm Mylra Stormborn, shaman and gryphon rider of the Clan. Who are yeh laddie?"

"Um, Ron Weasley," Ron said. "But you sound like a scot. Where are your parents?"

Myra laughed. "I suppose me da's back at the Aerie caring for his forge even on a night like this. Me ma's likely cookin' supper wonderin' where her daughters got off to again, even if I'm old enough to have a home of me own now. Don't ye know a dwarf when ye see one boy?"

"Um, no," Ron admitted. "I thought dwarves lived in Scandinavia."

"Ye have the strangest name for places boyo. Well, come on. Stormbeak's waitin' outside. Let's get ye to a proper fire and some dinner."

Ron nodded, waving to the fire. He didn't know what was happening, but dinner sounded good. "Bye Reth, thanks for the warmth."

"Reth reth reth," the spark said, and hopped up into Ron's pocket. He was warm, but didn't burn Ron's clothes.

"Aye, ye'll make a mighty fine shaman with the proper trainin'" Myra said happily. "Got fire in yer blood ye do."

"Have you seen my friends, by the way? Harry and Hermione, they're both human kids like me," Ron said as they walked towards a large golden gryphon. He's never seen one before, but they were supposed to be nice if you'd tamed them.

"No laddie, yer the only one around. They human too?"

"Well yes," Ron said. "What else would they be?"

"All kind o' beasties around these parts. Elves an' trolls an' moonkin. Even got some dragons not to far from here."

"Oh, my brother Charlie's a dragon tamer. Maybe they'll know where he is at the preserve," Ron offered.

"I think yer more lost than ye might realize child," Myra said. "Come on, let's go. We won't find yer friends standing and jawin around here."

\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\\\/\/\/

"Hey, what are you doing here?"

Hermione sat bolt upright, gasping and looking around wildly. She was lying on a cold concrete floor, with flashing red lights going off all around here. "Harry, Ron, the water-" she cut herself off, peering around.

"Hey, you're not a gnome," the voice said again. Hermione spun about to see a young girl standing beside her, dressed in overalls with a grease stained face and a wrench in one hand.

"No, I'm a girl," Hermione said, standing up. She was just about as tall as the other girl, though the other girls brown twin ponytails stuck up well above Hermione's head. "Like you."

"No, you look like a human," the girl said, shaking her head. She reached out then and grabbed Hermione's left ear in one hand, rubbing it. "Yep! Not an elf, so you must be a human."

"Ow!" Hermione protested, rubbing her sore ear. "Who are you, and why did you grab my ear?"

"I'm Kristine Lee Smallfry, though my friends call me K Lee! Why are you here in Gnomeregan human girl? And obviously, I grabbed your ear to check if it was pointed. You don't look like an elf, but you can never tell without empirical evidence."

"I don't know why I'm in Gnomeregan," Hermione said sulkily. "I'm supposed to be in Hogwarts helping my friends Harry and Ron stop Professor Snape from getting the Philosopher's Stone."

"Oh, you need a philosopher's stone?" K Lee said. "Sorry, can't help you there, but I know some alchemists who might be able too! I'm just a regular gnomish engineer, here to scrounge for parts! Had to beat up a lot of troggs to get them too."

"What's a trogg?" Hermione asked.

"You know, the big ugly things that look like a dwarf with a really bad hair day and even less hygiene?" K Lee said. "Oh, like one of those there. Watch out, that one's irradiated."

"Urrgghh," a very odd man said as it walked toward them. It was glowing green, and it's body was covered in hair. It looked to Hermione sort of like a neanderthal. "Rahg? RAWWWGGHHH!"

The trogg charged, waving a club and foaming at the mouth.

"Step back human, this one's hostile!" K Lee proclaimed. She dug a gun out of her pocket, and pointed it at the charging trogg. "Taste engineering, monster!"

A ray of lighting zapped out of the gun, hitting the trogg which turned into a glowing green chipmunk. The chipmunk blinked, squeaked, and ran away.

"Yes!" K Lee cheered. "The Critter Maker 3000 works! Well, most of the time, anyway. Field tests show about a 70% success rate."

"What happens when it doesn't work?" Hermione asked curiously.

"Oh, you explode. Or they do. Very messy. I'm still working out the kinks, but that's gnomish engineering for you! A dash of magic with a hefty dose of SCIENCE! Together, those two great forces of the universe can do anything!"

"Wow." Hermione looked around, confused. "Say, do you know where Hogwarts is? I need to find my friends and stop Snape from getting the Philosopher's stone."

"Oh don't worry about that," K Lee said. "We can just make a new one if he steals it. My friend Tally Berryfizz can make you another one if that guy steals yours. The ingredients are a bit rare, but I'm an expert at finding rare ingredients! Why, I was thinking of going through the Dark Portal to outland to try some of those fascinating new materials for my inventions. Say, maybe that's where Hogwarts is! You could come with me. I could use a new lab assistant, mine left after I accidentally turned him into a critter once. He got better, but he had no sense of adventure. Dwarves. What can you do?"

"Well if it's not too much trouble," Hermione said. "I would like to learn more about this magical engineering. They told me you couldn't mix science and magic, but if you can that would be extraordinary. Plus, I really do want to get back to school, or my grades will be dreadful."

"I can help you with your grades! I was stop of my class in Arcane Theory and Exposiveering 303. I might not look it, but in addition to being an excellent engineer, I'm also a powerful mage!"

"Is that like being a witch?" Hermione asked.

"Oh no, I think that's more like being a warlock," K Lee said. "My friend Wilfred Fizzlebang knows all about that. I think I have a book on Summoning Demons for Dummies back in my wagon though. Come on, I'll show you! I could use some imp blood for my latest batch of rockets anyway."

Hermione followed after K Lee, happy to be on her way back to Hogwarts and her friends. If she could get another Philosopher's Stone along the way, that would be even better.

Voldemort had finally fooled the old man into leaving the school. At first, he'd thought to bypass those traps, but then, he'd had a revelation: no one, not even Dumbledore, was dumb enough to announce where they were keeping a valuable artefact. The traps were a diversion, a subterfuge. He'd seen that as soon as he'd looked into that dark pool below the trap door. Now, instead, he was in the Headmaster's office, and he'd succeeded in opening the door to Dumbledore's quarters.

"Now, you fool, quickly," Voldemort hissed as Quirrell hurried forward. "Search the area for any further safeguards.

In less than a minute, Quirrell had found it: a trapdoor under the bed. Quirrell was having problems getting the door open though, so Voldemort took over. Still, it took almost an hour of incantations before the door sprang open, and Quirrell dropped into the vault below.

"Find the Stone," Voldemort hissed.

But there was no Stone to be found. However, as Quirrell was searching through the various boxes of sentimental old photos and dusty knicknacks, he came across a locked chest that was cold to the touch.

Voldemort took over once more, and before long he had the chest open. Inside was a shard of ice slightly larger than a man's head. With in it, a mummified skull was frozen. However, the skull was not human. It had two tusks, and a thick, jutting brow.

"Master, what is it?" Quirrel whispered, reaching a hand forward to touch the ice.

"No you fool!" Voldemort shrieked, but it was too late.

As Quirrell's hand descended, the skull's eye sockets glowed with an inner blue light. The ice leapt up, engulfing Quirrell's hand as the room began to chill. The man cried out and tried to flinch back, but to no avail.  
 **  
WHO DISTURBS MY SLUMBER?**

"Unhand this fool! This man is my vessel, not yours, creature!" Voldemort hissed as Quirrell cried out in pain.

The room's temperature continued to drop, and the voice from the skull echoed across the room.

 **MORTALS. YOU DISTURB THE REST OF NER'ZHUL, THE FIRST AND TRUE LICH KING.**

"I am no mortal! I am Lord Voldemort, he who has defeated death itself!"

"Please, master, it burns, I can feel it, in my mind, I-"

 **SILENCE, MINION. YOUR BABBLINGS ARE OF NO CONCERN TO US. I SEE WITHIN YOU, TOM RIDDLE, YOU WHO CALL YOURSELF VOLDEMORT. YOUR SOUL IS FRAGMENTED, SCATTERED. YES. YOU HAVE PUT OFF DEATH, FOR NOW. BUT IT IS NOT DEFEATED. YOU ARE YET VULNERABLE.  
**  
Voldemort bristled at the use of his petty, muggle name, but he was truly enraged by the claim he was yet vulnerable. "My horcruxes shall-"  
 **  
YOUR PALE PHYLACTERIES ARE BUT A STOPGAP. SURELY, ONE SUCH AS YOU WOULD NOT BE CONTENT TO EXIST SOLELY AS A SPIRIT FOREVER, WOULD YOU? I CAN SHOW YOU HOW TO CREATE A TRUE PHYLACTERY, ONE THAT SHALL SUPPLY YOU WITH A NEW PHYSICAL FORM NO MATTER HOW OFTEN YOUR OWN COIL IS DESTROYED. ONE THAT WILL ALSO GRANT YOU POWER OVER BOTH LIFE, AND DEATH.  
**  
Voldemort paused, ignoring the mental shrieks of the now mute Quirrell. A new body would aide his plans, and he was confident he could control this sub-human spirit easily enough. Besides, he could not locate the Stone, and the Old Fool would be returning soon. He may as well take this opportunity.

"Very well. I shall take you away from here, and see if you can help me build this physical form, that I may return and bring this land low with my might."

Taking full control of Quirrell, Voldemort forced him to take the frozen head, and they departed Hogwarts upon a broom, heading towards the Gaunt shack to retrieve the first of his Horcruxes.


	2. Six Lights in the Darkness

Dumbledore returned to find his quarters ransacked, and hurried down into his hidden vault with his heart beating rapidly. Mostly it was old personal effects and family heirlooms, but there were a few items that were truly dangerous. He bent to look through the broken boxes and crates, but suddenly straightened.

"The worst has happened, then," he said.

Out of the shadows, a grim faced man in a raven mantled cloak and a wooden staff appeared, seeming to materialize from nothing.

"Voldemort has taken the Skull of Ner'zhul," Medivh confirmed. "He has already departed the castle."

Dumbledore sat down heavily on a half splintered wooden crate. "This is beyond my worst nightmare. I thought my defenses sufficient, that he would attempt to retrieve the Stone from the Forbidden Corridor."

"It is too late to prevent the rebirth of Voldemort, and, worse, that he will appear as the servant of a reborn Ner'zhul, who shall attempt to reclaim his mantle as Lich King. I have already taken steps to check him once he does, however."

Dumbledore turned his head to face the Prophet. "What have you done?"

"Three have been taken already," Medivh's spirit stated. "Three more have yet to be chosen. They must depart this world to escape the influence of this new Lich King."

"Who have you taken?" Dumbledore demanded.

"He who was fated to confront Voldemort, and his two companions," Medivh answered. "The others I shall take this very night."

"You took Harry, Ronald, and Hermione?" Dumbledore said. "They are but children."

"Children of Fate, all of them. Their fate now lies in Azeroth. There, they will be sheltered and guided, prepared to save both their birth world and that which has adopted them."

"And who else will you require?" Dumbledore asked. "This is already a steep price to pay."

"It is a cheap price to pay to prevent your world from falling to the Scourge," Medivh answered. "Worse things than that will also be attracted by the weavings of such dark magic. Be at peace. These children will be will cared for, by those who are champions of Azeroth, and of the Alliance."

"And what of the other Guardians?" Dumbledore demanded. "As Guardian of this realm, I have the right to request their aide since the borders of reality have been violated."

"I shall inform the Guardian of Azeroth, my apprentice," Medivh stated. "As for the others, they shall be contacted only if this threat spreads. The Scourge are but shadows of the true horrors that created them. Should the true threats to reality itself manifest, the Council of the Realms will be called."

"Very well, Prophet of the Guardians," Dumbledore agreed. "I shall leave this matter in your hands, and prepare my own realm for the darkness that will soon overtake it."

"See that you do, Guardian," Medivh stated. "I go now, to claim those who this realm will require in its hour of need. Though they are but children now, a great destiny awaits them."

With that, Medivh vanished, leaving Dumbledore behind in the shattered wreckage of his memories.

"But Great does not mean Good," Dumbledore whispered to the empty room.

It had been a most wonderful dream. Luna had been approached by a raven, a wise and noble creature. The raven had flown to her, and at its cry had been one of warning.

"It's too late," Luna told the bird, holding out her arm so she could land on it. "Mum's already dead."

The raven cawed again, pointing it's beak toward the north. Luna turned in that direction, and from it a chill wind blew. The win cut Luna to the bone, but its chill went deeper. She felt within it the same cold certainty of the grave she had felt in her mother's lifeless hand when she had been found in her lab.

"I understand," she told the raven. "Something dead is coming."

The raven nodded, then turned away. It spread its wings and began to fly, circling overhead and crying.

Luna followed the raven, running after it. The raven flew, higher and higher, and Luna felt herself rising with it. She looked down, seeing her home and sleeping father falling away.

"I can't leave him!" Luna told the raven. "This is my home; I'm just a little girl!"

The raven cried again, and Luna saw the fel wind blowing through her house, wrapping about her father and draining the life from him.

"No!" Luna shrieked, trying to go back. She looked to the raven, and it beat its wings, driving the wind away.

"Please, teach me how to do that!" Luna begged. "I don't want the wind to kill my father!"

The raven nodded, but flew away again. Luna chased it, flying after it. However, the raven flew into thick mist, and Luna lost it. She hurried after it, frantically searching the mist. Suddenly, Luna feel, screaming, no longer able to fly.

With a gasp, Luna sat bolt upright, looking around. She felt a sudden pang when she realized she was no longer in her bedroom, but laying on hard stone amidst thick mist.

"Mr. Raven?" Luna called, slowly getting to her feet and peering around. "Where did you go?"

Finding herself on a cobblestone path, Luna stumbled forward, trying to feel her way through the clinging mist. There was no sign of the raven, only thick trees and undergrowth to either side of the path. Luna stumbled in her bare feet and nightgown, shivering in the chill of the thick mists. As she moved forward, she began to climb up a steep incline. Hoping that from the top she could see her home once more, Luna hurried forward, sometimes having to scramble on her hands and knees to continue on.

At last, the path reached the top of the incline, and Luna collapsed on the cool stones, breathing hard. Crawling forward on hands and knees, Luna came across a small pedestal. Standing and feeling the damp surface with her hands, Luna discovered a wooden mallet. She carefully removed the mallet from the pedestal and hefted it in both hands. It was heavy, and made of a sort of bamboo but had carvings and stone worked into it. Dragging the hammer, she made her way forward and found a great bronze bell.

Luna put her hand on the metal and walked around the bell. It was at least 5 feet tall, and three feet wide. The bell had jade ornaments set into the metal, and glyphs of furry looking creatures on two legs.

"I wonder, should I ring you?" Luna mused. She glanced down at the hammer, then shrugged. "Well, I suppose this is here for a reason." Taking up the hammer in both hands, Luna spun about, crashing the hammer into the bell as hard as she could.

The bell rang with a deep, sonorous tone that caused Luna to stumble back, falling onto her rear and clutching at her ears. The tone continued for over a minute, slowly fading away as the vibrations ceased. Luna stood up, cocking her head to one side and looking around.

"I wonder if anyone heard you," Luna mused. "Or if that just lets someone know it's dinner time."

"Why, it's always dinner time!" a deep, jolly voice said from behind Luna.

Luna turned, peering into the mist, which was slowly beginning to clear away. "If it's dinner time, would you mind taking me there? I'm very hungry; I haven't had breakfast yet."

"Well then we shall say it is the breakfast bell, and ring it again come dinner time!" the voice said. Out of the mists stepped an enormous man. He was easily six feet tall, and it seemed to Luna (who was still a very small girl) nearly as wide. A dark, thick beard covered his face and neck, and his dark eyes were warm and seemed to dance merrily. He had a broad grin on his face, though a single pointed canine pointed out from his lip. Perhaps the most interesting thing though was that the man was not a human, but rather some sort of bear. He carried a large keg over one shoulder, and a walking staff in the other.

"Are you a panda?" Luna asked. "I saw one of those at the muggle zoo once. I don't remember them wearing clothes though. Might you be a magic panda? I think we'll have to run an article in the Quibbler about this."

"I am a pandarian," the bear-man said, bending low to look into Luna's face. "Hmmm. You, it seems, are a gnome. I have not seen a gnome since I left Kalimdor!"

"I'm not a gnome," Luna said, lifting her bare foot up to show the bear man and wiggling her toes. "See? Gnomes have hairy feet. I don't. Also, I don't like to swear, mum wouldn't have approved."

The bear man nodded seriously. "I see. Well, if you are not a gnome, are you some sort of hairless dwarf?"

"Oh no, I have hair," Luna said, holding up her blond locks. "Only on my head though. I might grow it somewhere else someday. I think mustaches are terribly fashionable, even if girls don't normally grow them."

"Oh! Are you a human child then? I confess, I have not seen many humans. Only those in Theramore. Ah, but they did like to drink! Why, I brewed up a nice, hoppy beer to share at their inn. And the songs! What wonderful songs they sang! All about the sea, or about the pretty human women they had left back in the Eastern Kingdoms."

"Yes, I am a human," Luna said. Then she frowned. "At least, I think I am. I could be a vampire or a boggart, I suppose. Are you terribly afraid of lost little girls? And do you have a mirror?"

"Hmm, no, I don't think I'm afraid of small children. Well, except perhaps my niece when she's in a temper. Ah! But I do have a small mirror. Here."

Luna took the small mirror and examined her reflection. "No, not a vampire, or a boggart. I must be a human then." She stuck out her hand towards the pandaren. "I am Luna Lovegood. Can we have breakfast now?"

The massive paw of the pandaren seemed to engulf Luna's small and delicate hand. "I am Chen Stormstout, recently returned to this isle from my many years of travel. Tell me, little one, how did you come to Pandaria?"

"I followed a raven," Luna explained. "It was flying away from a grave wind, but I needed it to teach me how to stop the wind from killing my father."

"Ah." Chen took off the large wide hat on his head and stretched at the fur on his head. "I don't suppose your parents are nearby?"

"My mother is always with me; she died last year so her spirit follows me around. We talk often."

Chen's eyes deepened into sadness, and he sighed heavily, kneeling down so he was even with Luna's face. "Well, I suppose you're not the first hungry young one to wander far afield." He held out his arm to Luna. "Come. Tian Monastery is just over the bridge. My niece and I are staying there, with the monks. We were just about to have breakfast."

Luna took Chen's hand, following him as the mist cleared away. She frowned, looking around. There were many rolling green hills, and below them thick jungle that the mist still hovered over. "Well, this doesn't look much like England at all. That raven must have flown very far."

"No, no, this is Pandaria. Did you know, I think you are the first human to visit here? Ah! This calls for a celebration! My niece, Li Li, she is 10 years old, about your age I should think. Perhaps you can help her make some red bean cakes in the monastery's kitchens while we figure out what to do with you."

"Well, as long as you don't eat me. I remember pandas like bamboo, and I don't taste much like that. I think I taste like chicken, but I haven't tested that theory."

"Ha! No, we do not eat little children, or bamboo, though I wouldn't go asking the hozen that. No, here, we drink fine brews, eat meals four times a day, and sing songs and practice our martial skills. Tell me, have you ever tried throwing a punch before? Ow! Ha! Not bad! Perhaps you have the spirit of a Stormstout!"

\/\/\\\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\\\/\\\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/

"Oh, well, hello there, little one. Tell me, what brings you to my barrow this fine evening? Or is it morning? Yawn, oh, excuse me. I'm terribly sorry, it's just that I've only now woken up."

Neville slowly opened his eyes, feeling stiff from the body binding charm that Hermione had used on him. "Have to...stop…" his eyes suddenly snapped open and he let out a shriek, desperately scooting away.

"BEAR!" he cried, looking around for his wand. He was rubbish at magic, but maybe this massive bear didn't know that.

"Hmm? Oh, yes, well, I suppose I am a bear right now," the bear said, sitting back on its haunches and scratching at its thick hide. It seemed to regard Neville with a shocking amount of intelligence, and Neville slowly stopped his backward scoot, regarding the bear.

It was a very odd looking bear, now that Neville thought about it. For one thing, it had long, pointed ears that were dropping were white markings on it, that stood out in the dim green light that filled the area, coming from some very odd mushrooms Neville didn't recognize from herbology at all.

"I'm sorry, it's just, well, I wasn't expecting to get woken up by a bear today," Neville said awkwardly.

The bear nodded sagely, as if this was a perfectly normal thing to say. "I don't always know what I'll wake up as myself. Usually it's a bear, though I've woken up as cat or a stag fairly often. Why, once, I woke up as a sea lion. Imagine that! Well, and there are times I wake up as my ordinary self, but, well, not usually when I'm in the barrow you see."

"Oh, sorry. Are you an animagus then?" Neville asked.

"Hmmm? What's that? No, I don't think so, unless that's what you humans call druids. Beg pardon, but, you are a human, aren't you? I have such a hard time telling...you other races all look much the same to me."

"I'm a wizard," Neville said. "Well, a human wizard at any rate."

"Oh! You must be one of that young woman's group then. What was her name again? Jasmine? No, Jowain? Ah, I forget. Perhaps one of the sentinels would know. But tell me, young human, what are you doing on Teldrassil?"

"What's a Teldrassil?" Neville asked, slowly getting to his feet and looking around. He appeared to be in some sort of cave or burrow: the walls were made of earth and had plants growing on them, and the floor was rich, loamy soil.

"What's a Teldrassil?" the bear asked, shocked. "Why, that's the tree we're standing on right now! The new world tree, grown by the Cenarion Circle after Nordrassil was destroyed. Surely you saw it when you came here? Did you come by boat, or hippogriff? Or magic, I suppose, you humans are always meddling in the arcane, and you did say you were a wizard."

"I don't rightly know how I got here," Neville said glumly. "I'm a pretty awful wizard, I don't think I could have managed to aparate myself here. Where is Teldrassil anyway? Are we still in Scotland?"

"Scotland? No, no, this is Kalimdor. Well, north of Kalimdor anyway. Teldrassil was grown on an island after all, though it has grown quite beyond it. But I must ask, why are you here, then, if you don't remember how you got here."

"I don't know why I'm here at all. The last thing I remember was Hermione petrifying me when I tried to stop her from going out of bed after hours at school," Neville explained. "Then I woke up here."

"Hmmm. Hmmm. I see. Unusual. Most unusual. Well, only one thing for it then. Come along, human. We shall have to ask the sentinels. They must have seen you come in, and can offer us some explanation."

"I'm Neville, by the way. Neville Longbottom," Neville said as he trotted beside the bear through the tunnel.

"And I am Braxiss the Sleeper, Druid of the Claw. It is interesting to make your acquaintance, Neville Longbottom the Human Wizard."

After a few minutes of walking, Neville and Braxiss emerged from a wooden doorway out into a twilight woodland. There were distant calls of various creatures echoing through the woods, and Neville shivered to see various shapes in the darkness. He brightened when he looked down though, bending over and caressing a plant with white blossoms. He sniffed at it.

"Hmm, this looks to be magical. I can tell, always had a bit of a green thumb. I wonder what it's used for?"

"Oh, that? Why, it's nimil'dorana, or peace blossom in your human language," Braxiss said from behind Neville. "It has many uses in various potions and elixirs. I frequently use it to make a healing draught when I'm feeling a bit under the weather."

Neville turned about and started. The bear was gone, replaced by a tall, purple man with pointed ears and glowing silver eyes. "What are you?" he asked, surprised.

The tall man yawned. "Why, I told you. I'm Braxiss the druid. Oh, you mean what race? Well, surely you've seen a night elf before, being on Teldrassil and all. You must have been to Darnassus."

"Um, no," Neville said, slowly standing and looking up. Braxiss the night elf was very tall, well over six feet. However, he smiled down at Neville in a kindly manner.

"Why don't you harvest some of that peace blossom and I'll tell you of it's properties while we walk to Dolanaar," Braxiss suggested.

Dutifully, Neville carefully plucked the peace blossom to preserve the petals, holding it up to Braxiss.

The night elf bent over to sniff the flower, then nodded and smiled. "Ah, good work, you have preserved the essence well. I've always loved the smell of nimil'dorana. Sometimes, I line my den with them. Why, just last century, I was-"

Neville trotted along next to Braxiss as he ambled through the woods, having to hurry to keep up with the druid's long legged strides. With Braxiss beside him, Neville didn't think the forest was all that intimidating actually. After all, he could turn into a bear, and really, what was scarier than a bear? Well, aside from Professor Snape, his grandmother, dementors, boggarts- Neville quit thinking about that and tried to focus on what the druid was telling him.

After half an hour of walking along the forest trail, they came to a packed earth path. The followed this for another half an hour, passing other night elves along the way. They were all very tall, even the women, some even taller than Braxiss. They all seemed curious at Neville's presence, but none commented on it. As they drew near to the lights of a small village, three night elf women riding huge sabertooth tigers approached. Neville felt his knees knocking together at the sight of the fearsome predators, but resisted the urge to hide behind Braxiss and stood his ground.

"Ah, Sentinel Starsong, greetings. This young human wandered into my barrow den. He seems to be somewhat lost. Perhaps you know of any lost humans?"

"Ishnu-alah, druid. No, I have not heard tell of any missing humans. Young one, from whence do you hail?" the lead warrior asked.

"Um, Hogwarts, in Scotland," Neville said, forcing himself to look at Starsong and not her predatory mount.

"Hogwarts? I have not heard of such a place. Is it in the Eastern Kingdoms?" Starsong asked.

"Um, no. It's in Britain. In Europe," Neville said. "I've never heard of Night Elves before. House elves yes, but not night elves."

"He says he is a wizard," Braxiss said. "Perhaps he is one of those humans we helped during the War?"

"I'm not really a proper wizard yet," Neville interjected. "I just go to school for it. Honestly I'm pretty rubbish at it."

"Are you one of Proudmoore's folk?" one of the other Sentinels asked.

"No?" Neville guessed. "I mean, I'm Neville Longbottom. Grandmother Augusta looks after me when I'm not at school."

The Sentinels exchanged looks, and Starsong shrugged. "You can accompany us to Darnassus, young human. Perhaps help can be found for you at the human embassy there. The people of Stormwind and Theramore may welcome another orphan."

Neville felt slightly panicked, and looked to Braxxis. The druid yawned, then frowned. "Hmm. Well, I feel this young one is something of my own responsibility. After all, he did come to my barrow den. Yes, it has been some time since I left the Dream long enough to venture to Darnassus. I shall take him myself. The walk would do me good." Braxxis yawned again, then patted his belly. "Yet the way is far and I hunger. Come, young Neville. We shall sup at the inn here in Dolanaar and stay the day. It is much to late in the morning to be going all the way to Darnassus. Thank you, Sentinels. Del-nadres."

Neville hurried after Braxxis, glancing back at the retreating forms of the large cats. "I wouldn't want to get on the wrong side of one of those," he muttered.

"Oh yes, Sentinels can be a prickly lot. Best to be polite," Braxxis agreed absently. "Oh, look! Silverleaf. Come, let us gather some. We can use it with the peacebloom you collected earlier and perhaps brew some potions in the evening when we wake. You seem to have quite the affinity for such things, young Neville. Tell me, what properties do you think this plant has?"

Neville brightened at the mention of plants, and happily talked with Braxxis about the possible magical properties of the herb as they made their way to the inn. He could worry about finding his way back to Hogwarts later. No one really wanted him there anyway.

/\\\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/

The first thing Ginny heard was the crashing of waves and the cry of gulls. The first thing she smelled was fish guts and offal. She opened her eyes and made a face, looking about her at the musty old boxes that stank of dead fish.

"Bloody hell, where am I?" Ginny grumbled, standing and looking about her. She was in some sort of alleyway standing on a wooden boardwalk next to some rubbish bins full of dead fish and other refuse. She was dressed the same as whens he went to sleep, in jeans and a stained blouse. She'd been too tired and lazy to change the night before after the row she'd had with her mum.

"Maybe she's finally gone and dumped me somewhere. Or Fred and George got home early and decided to prank me," Ginny grumbled. She looked around some more, trying to figure out where she was and what was going on.

Suddenly a door near her slammed open, and a fat little green man with dark stubble on his three chins waddled out, carrying a pail of more fish guts.

"Ey, another urchin? Get lost human, this alleyway is private property. You stick around here, I'm gonna charge you. These scraps? Two coppers if you want some." The green man held up the bin, which had flies buzzing about it.

Ginny made a face. "Disgusting! No thank you. I'm just lost. What are you, some sort of goblin?"

The little creature chucked the rubbish and Ginny, who squeaked and dived out of the way just in time. "What are ya, some sort of comedian? I said beat it!"

Ginny made a rude gesture at the creature, then ran down the alleyway as it shouted abuse after her.

Making her way out into the sunlight, Ginny came to a screeching halt. She was by the sea! Right over it, in fact. From where she was, she could see waves sloshing down below her and off into the distance, where a very odd stone statue that looked like some sort of bat eared creature with wide open arms facing out to see could be seen in the distance.

"What is that?" Ginny asked no one in particular, feeling very lost. "And where am I?"

"You're in Booty Bay, sweetheart," a voice growled from beside her.

Ginny spun to find herself face to face with another green, bat eared thing like the one with the slop bucket, except this one had on armor and was much thinner, with more muscle than fat. It also had a golden tooth, which it was flashing at Ginny.

"You lost, little girl? Where are your parents?" the goblin thing asked, leering at Ginny and taking a step forward.

Ginny took a stepforward right back, sticking her face into the things. "They're right over there buying wands before we head back home. What's a smelly little goblin like you going to do about it?"

The goblin glanced behind him, to where a bazaar of sellers could be seen. He then turned back around and put a hand on Ginny's arm. "Sounds like you're lost, little girl. Really lost. Maybe no one would miss you if you landed in a slave pen."

Before Ginny could say anything, a dark haired girl a few years older than her ran up and cracked the goblin thing in the back of the head with a sheathed dagger.

"Oh there you are, Annabell. Ugh, filthy goblins. Come, mother and father are missing you."

The goblin in question sprang up, glaring at the new girl and readying for a fight, until he saw her now drawn dagger pointing at his gut. "Hey, I don't want no trouble. Your sister, she just looked lost. I was just a concerned citizen."

"Get lost, creep," the girl snarled. "Before I use your green hide for a new pair of boots."

"Alright already, I'm goin', I'm goin'," the goblin said, shuffling off.

"Thanks," Ginny said, nodding to the girl. "Though I still think I could have taken him."

"Oh really?" the other girl said, rounding on Ginny and eyeing her skeptically.

"Well, he still has bits, right? I've got six older brothers. And I always win when we get in fights," Ginny declared. Well, the only one who really got in fights with her was Ron, and she didn't always win, but she did always make sure he always regretted it later.

The older girl laughed and clapped Ginny on the back. "That's the spirit. Well, run along back to your parents, and mind you don't get separated from them again. It's a rough place, Booty Bay."

"Cheers," Ginny said, looking around. "But where, exactly, is Booty Bay? That goblin sounded American or something."

"American?" the other girl said, puzzled. "And what do you mean, where is Booty Bay? We're in Booty Bay. It's the pirate capital of the world."

"What, so, the West Indies or something?" Ginny asked, looking around. "How the bloody hell did I end up there? I was in England last I remember."

"You are lost," the other girl said. She sighed heavily. "Damn. And I had to save you. Now you're my responsibility. Come along, can't let you end up as another wharf whore now."

"What?" Ginny squawked as the older girl took her arm and dragged her off. "Me, a prostitute? I'm a respectable girl! Well, mostly. But I'm not a scarlet woman even if my hair is red!"

The older girl looked back and glanced at Ginny. "You're a bit young, no tits yet, but the sailors don't care. They'll just bugger you like a boy and pay their ten coppers all the same. You'll be dead in a month and a half if that happens."

"You're not exactly stacked yourself," Ginny grumbled, blushing and wondering just what in blazes was going on.

"Well I'm only 16 yet, and frankly I don't need that kind of attention. Not yet at any rate."

Ginny followed along after the girl, looking about as she did so. The green goblins were everywhere, all wearing armor or bright loose clothing. Some stood about hefting weapons and glaring about, others hawked wares at the top of their lungs. They were selling all sorts of things, from exotic fruits and spices to clothes to weapons to magical artefacts to brightly colored beasts of all shapes and sizes. Ginny was fairly certain one goblin with a lot of bandages on her face was selling dinosaur babies.

"Who are you, anyway?" Ginny called as they made their way through the dockside bazaar. "I'm Ginny, by the way. Ginny Weasley."

"Vanessa. And don't ask questions, it's not safe to talk here," the other girl said.

After wending their way through the bazaar they made their way down ladders and ropes to a small dock where a small sailboat was tied up. It was about 30 feet long, and there was a goblin aboard, wearing a red bandana on his head and sharpening a wicked looking knife.

"Helix what did I tell you," Vanessa snaped. "We can't go about wearing that now! Those murders are still looking for us!"

"Yeah, yeah, whatever," the goblin said, taking the bandana off his head to wipe some sweat off his greasy skin before sticking it in his pocket. He eyed Ginny skeptically. "Who's this? Some dockside whore? Look, I ain't into humans. Orcs, yes, but you pale skinned types? Sweet explosions no. Or is she for the fish man? Ugh, you humans are-ULP!"

In a flash, Vanessa vanished and suddenly appeared behind Helix with her dagger at his throat. "This," Vanessa hissed, "is my friend. Ginny. She's going to be joining our crew. Savvy?"

"S-s-s-savvy, boss. Sorry! I just, um, forgot who I was talkin' too, see? It's all good now, you and your nice human friend can do whatever you want, old Helix will just follow orders? OK?"

"You had better, or I'm turning you in for that bounty Fleetmaster Seahorn is offering. Understand? You're just the mechanic. You fix what I tell you too, and keep your mouth shut." Vanessa let the goblin go, and he staggered away, looking nervous.

"Um, yes ma'am, Miss Vanc- I mean, boss. Yes ma'am."

Vanessa glared at him until Helix vanished into the boat house, then let out a heavy sigh. She bowed low to Ginny, sweeping her hand theatrically across the deck.

"Welcome, to the Hideout of the last of the Defias Brotherhood."

"Um, thanks?" Ginny said, feeling totally lost and more than a little scared. "What's a Defiant brotherhood?"

Vanessa straightened, cocking her head to one side as she eyed Ginny. "You really are not from around here, are you?"

"No. Not at all. You um, you don't know a way back to England, do you? Because, well, my mum is going to be livid when I'm late, and, well, I sort of miss her and dad and even if we did have a row I really need to get home." Ginny fought back tears, but her voice was strained and she was having a hard time keeping a stiff upper lip.

Vanessa sighed and beckoned Ginny onto the boat. "Come on. No point in hiding it. You're lost, or possibly just insane. You're not the only one to lose a family, though. And, well, I suppose I have to start rebuilding the Brotherhood somewhere. Though at this point we're more of a sisterhood. Just you, me, Helix, and Cookie."

"Who's Cookie?" Ginny asked, climbing unsteadily onto the boat.

Just then, a bug eyed creature popped out of the waves next to the boat. "Mrrrggglleee," the thing said.

"That's Cookie," Vanessa said, tossing the a line to the creature. It climbed up the rope and onto the boat, proving to be some sort of fish-frog-man thing. "He's the one who rescued me from those murdering monsters."

"Mrraaaphh," the fish man growled. He held up a set to Vanessa, which was full of clams.

"Excellent," Vanessa said, taking the net. She plucked out a clam and pried it open with her dagger, revealing a large pearl inside. She nodded in satisfaction. "They're all like this?"

"Mrrakk," the fish man said, nodding his head. "Mrrrgggllle!"

"Thank you again, old friend," Vanessa said, smiling at Cookie. Then she reached into a nearby chest, pulled out a knife, and flipped it casually to Ginny. "Catch."

Ginny managed to snag the knife out of the air by catching it between her fingers on the blade, and Vanessa let out a low whistle. "Um, thanks? What's this for?"

"Help me with the clams. We'll sell the pearls to get enough money to buy a bigger boat, raise a crew, and start climbing our way back up to a proper group of outlaws again. One day, Stormwind will tremble in terror at the name of Vanessa Vancleef, Queen of the Seas!"

Ginny slowly sat, taking a handful of clams and prying them open to collect the pearls inside. Cookie took the cast offs, putting them in a pot that he started to make a stew of.

"Well, alright, I suppose. Do you think you might sail by England sometime?" Ginny asked. "I think I could find my way home from there."

"There is no England," Vanessa grunted, taking out another pearl and dropping it in a bucket of water. "You don't have to tell me what really happened to your folks. It's probably a story I've heard before. Killed in the wars, abandoned because they had too many mouths to feed, dead of plague, killed by nobles, it's all the same, really. You're one of the downtrodden. And I'm here to help you."

Ginny silently helped open the clams, tears running down her cheeks as she did so. After they were done, she sniffed, wiping her nose and mouth on her sleeve. Her mum would have had a fit, but she was filthy from the clams anyway.

"Thanks," she told Vanessa quietly that evening while they were eating Cookies stew. "Do you think you could teach me to use a knife like you did? Maybe next time those goblins won't try to sell me into slavery or whatever."

Vanessa grinned and nodded, wiping her own mouth with the back of her hand. "Of course. I've always wanted a little sister to train in the art of murder. We'll just be one big, dysfunctional family of misfits."

"OK," Ginny agreed, desperate for something to cling to in a world she didn't know at all.

 _Authors Note_

 _But mugglesftw, Chen isn't from Pandaria, he's from-_

 _I know. Don't care._

 _But the lore says-_

 _Alternate Universe. Miracles. Stormstout fell through a portal too. Whatever. Basically, I needed Luna in Pandaria and Chen and Li Li are my favorite characters in Warcraft after Uther the Lightbringer (and also Vindicator Maraad). So now Chen and Li Li are now from Pandaria._

 _But Vanessa Vanceelf wasn't-_

 _Warcraft lore is about as coherent as a DnD Session that has gone on for decades and is being written by the seat of the DM's pants while the players are more concerned about killing the next bad guy and getting sweet lewts. Therefore, it doesn't make any sense, and I am using artistic license to ignore it wherever another way would make a better story. Like having Vanessa Vancleef be a kick ass pirate in the this chapter instead of a sucky boring farm hand. So unless you wanted Ginny's chapters to be about growing barley in Westfall instead of raiding ships and finding treasure in the South Seas, just follow the MST3K mantra:_

 _It's just a show, I should really just relax…._


	3. The New World I

Harry awoke to the warm thrumming sensation of the naaru. He stretched and yawned, slowly getting to his feet. He'd arrived late with Maraad last night after seeing the prophet, and didn't remember much. He missed Ron and Hermione, but the realization that he never would have to see his awful relatives made a huge grin sprout on his face. Harry climbed out of the bunk bed he'd been sleeping on and dropped down to the floor, looking around.

"Hey!"

Turning, Harry saw a young draenei boy peering at him from the bottom bunk. The boy was about the same size as Harry, though Harry couldn't tell how old he was.

"Hello," Harry said waving. "I'm Harry."

"H'ari?" the draenei boy said, slowly sitting up and blinking his glowing blue eyes. "I am Ruunar. Are you an orphan also?"

Harry nodded. "Yes, my parents died a long time ago. They were killed by an evil wizard."

"Ah. My parents, they were killed also. My father by orcs, my mother by elves." Harry and Ruunar sat quietly for a moment, unsure of what to say. At least, Ruunar got out of bed and leaned toward Harry. "Are you an elf?"

"No, I'm human," Harry explained. "I've never even seen an elf."

"Oh. Well, that's good I guess. Matron Maalon says we must still love and care for all races, but I don't like elves or orcs very much," Ruunar stated.

"Is here here?" a new voice called, and another Draenei child stuck their head into the room, this one a girl who looked a bit older than Harry or Ruunar.

"Impa!" Ruunar complained, glaring at the newcomer. "This is the boys room! I could have been naked!"

"But he's here!" Impa said, running into the room and examining Harry. "Are you the human?"

"Yes, I'm Harry the Human," Harry agreed.

"Cool! I'm Impa. I'm an orphan too. I don't remember my parents, I grew up in Zangarmarsh. I'm the oldest here: I'm 26. How old are you?"

"You're an adult?" Harry asked skeptically. Impa looked like she was only two or three years older than Harry was.

"What? No, I'm not even close to 30 yet when we have to leave the orphanage," Impa stated emphatically. "Though I'm not a baby like Ruunar whose only 18. You look like you're 20 at least."

"I'm only 11!" Harry said in exasperation. "If I were as old as you are I'd be an adult."

"Children?" a new voice called. A adult female draenei entered, one who had a round, motherly face with a bit more fat than usual on it, though she still looked as young as every draenei save the Prophet. "Ah, good, you are all awake. Harry, I know it is your first day with us, so I want you to just relax and make friends. Ruunar, Impa, go get the little ones up, it's time for breakfast."

"I can help too," Harry said quickly as Ruunar and Impa turned to go.

The matron smiled and nodded. "Light bless you, of course, you may help. Impa, will you show him what to do? Oh, and Harry, I am Matron Maalon. I'll be looking after you while you're here with us."

"Yes ma'am," Harry said, then hurried after Impa.

There were a lot of younger orphans in the orphanage, most of them still infants or toddlers. Harry helped change diapers and wake up sleeping toddlers. It was a smelly job, but Harry had done a lot worse for his relatives in the past, and he sort of liked feeling useful to everyone. Plus, with the Song of the Naaru in his mind, it just seemed so right to help others, especially those that could not help themselves.

"How come there's not so many older kids?" Harry asked Impa.

"Most of us get taken in by families," Impa explained. "Especially as we get older. If you have any special talents, one of the Orders might even take you for training. Ruunar wants to get taken by the Vindicators. Me, I just want to leave, but I don't know what Matron Maalon would do without me."

"The Orders?" Harry asked.

"You know, like the Magi, the Crystal Weavers, the Vindicators, the Anchorites, those people. You came in with Vindicator Maraad, right?"

"Yeah, he found me. I don't really know how I got here. My friends seem to have disappeared."

"Oh. Well, maybe they're still out there somewhere. If they are, the Vindicators and Anchorites will find them," Impa offered.

Harry spent the morning playing with the orphans with Impa, keeping the little ones entertained. Ruunar went outside, where tremendous banging and thwacking noises could be heard. When Harry stuck his head outside, he saw Ruunar striking at glowing crystal with a wooden sword.

"Why's he doing that?" Harry asked Matron Maalon.

"He is nearly old enough to serve as an acolyte of the Vindicar," Maalon told Harry. "He seems to train his body to be strong enough to be chosen. Ruunar hasn't shown much aptitude for magic or the light, but he has a strong body and a good heart. There is always need for more Vindicators, so he is sure to be chosen."

"Are Vindicators soldiers?" Harry asked.

"Of a kind," Maalon agreed. "They are our protectors. They train with armor and weapons to protect our people from evil. Many Vindicators are strong in the light and become paladins. Others master arms and become warriors."

"Oh. What about wizards?" Harry asked. "I was learning to be one."

"Ah, yes, many of our people use magic," Maalon said. She wove her hands through the air, uttering a short spell, and a steaming hot roll with a sticky glaze appeared in her hands. She broke it in half, handing some to Harry and giving the rest to one of the young children she was minding. "I have some skill in magic myself. The Artificer, Magi, and Anchorites all have use for those with magical talent, though few earn the title of wizard save the most senior among the Artificers."

That afternoon, Vindicator Maraad came back to the orphanage for Harry. "A delegation of humans have arrived on our shores. I would have them speak with you, to know if they can tell us of where you come, Harry," he said.

Harry walked with Vindicator Maraad through the halls of the Exodar back to the hall of light. There, he found several odd looking people. Most of them were tall and purple with long, pointy ears, which Maraad told him were night elves. Others were comically short like Professor Flitwick, with either thick beards or hair in various neon colors. Two of them, however, were ordinary men in armor bearing shields and hammers.

The group was talking with various draenei and examining the images of the demons of the Burning Legion. As Harry approached, one of the night elves nudged the knights and gestured towards Harry. One of them, a man with bright red hair and a bristling mustache, walked over and raised his hand in greeting.

"Well met. I am Feero Ironhand, paladin of the Argent Dawn. You're a long way from home, lad. From whence do you hail?"

"I'm Harry Potter, from Surrey, England," Harry said. "Though recently I was in Scotland attending Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Have you seen my friends? I lost them somehow, they were Hermione Granger and Ron Weasley. We were attacked by a dark wizard and fell into a black pool."

"England? Scotland?" Feero shook his head. "Where in the Eastern Kingdoms is that, lad? They only school of wizardry I know was in Dalaran with the Kirin Tor. But witchcraft? That's dark magic."

"Um, it's in Britain. I've never heard of the Eastern Kingdoms or Dalaran," Harry said. "Witches aren't dark, they're just girls who do magic. I'm a wizard, since I'm a boy and I have magic."

"Hmmm," Feero rubbed his chin, studying Harry. "Can you do magic for me, Harry?"

"Well no, I haven't a wand," Harry admitted. "The only spell I really remember is Wingardium Leviosa."

"A wand? That should be easy to fix. Vinn, you're a mage. Have you a wand the boy can borrow?" Feero called to one of his companions.

One of the little men with bright green hair and a pointed green beard turned at Feero's call, then waddled over. "Hmm? A wand? Yes, I believe I have a spare one. Ah! Here. Are you a mage in training my lad?"

"I was going to school to be a wizard," Harry explained. He lifted the wand, looking about for something to cast a spell on. Seeing nothing, he took off his shoe and set it on the ground. Taking a deep breath, he swished and flicked his wand, chanting, "Wingardium Leviosa."

At first, nothing happened, but Harry concentrated and found himself focusing on the Song of the Naaru that filled the back of his mind. Suddenly a burst of light shot out from his hand. The shoe glowed for a moment, then a bubble appeared around it. After a moment, the bubble faded, leaving the shoe on the ground.

"Well, that's odd," Harry said, examining the wand. "Are you sure this is a proper wand?"

Vinn took the wand back, giving it a good shake and pointing it at Harry. For a brief moment, Harry found himself on all fours. To his shock, he let out a loud bleat. Then he was back on his feet, shaken, but unharmed.

"Yes, yes, it's working just fine. Though I must say my boy that wasn't arcane magic at all," Vinn declared.

"Indeed," Maraad rumbled. "Harry, you called upon the Light."

"That's good," Feero said, smiling at Harry and rubbing his hair. "You have a talent for the Light. I was a bit worried with your talk of witchcraft that someone had tried to corrupt you with the fel, but no one touched by the fel could manage even a simple blessing such as that."

"I don't know what it was," Harry admitted. "I just felt the Song of the Naaru. I sort of, I don't know, let it flow through me, and I cast the spell. I don't even know what it did."

"A simple blessing of cleansing," Maraad said, stooping to pick up the shoe. He examined it, then nodded and handed it to Feero, who rubbed his finger around the bottom of Harry's sole.

"Indeed, clean as the day it was made, if not cleaner," Feero agreed. He passed the shoe to Harry, who slipped it back on. "Well lad, I must say, we'd have a place for you in the Argent Dawn, though I can't take you there myself. I'm sure we could find passage for you with the draenei embassy to Stormwind however, and there you could be taken in as a squire."

Harry felt nervous, glancing up at Maraad. "Do I have to go? I'd rather stay here and wait to see if my friends turn up. I want to be able to help them. And...well, I like it here. I've never been anywhere that felt so peaceful and welcoming."

"You are welcome in the Exodar for as long as you wish to remain," Maraad declared. "I shall see to your training myself. Perhaps you have talent as an Ancorite or a Vindicator."

Feero nodded. "A sound plan. Obviously, the Draenei people are blessed by the Light. While normally I wouldn't feel right leaving a human boy with a strange race, with you seeking to join the Alliance and sharing our own faith, I think Harry will do well here. Besides, it's good for our relations to have a human boy trained up in your own discipline of the Light. Perhaps one day he'll become a member of the Argent Dawn, and help drive the Scourge from Lordaeron once and for all."

"Thanks," Harry said, feeling relieved. "You're sure I won't be any bother?"

"The draenei would never turn their backs upon one in need," Maraad declared. "Even a young orc or blood elf would find succor within our halls."

"A noble sentiment indeed," Feero agreed. "Though I confess, I have seen to much of orcish barbarity to feel comfortable around them. The Warsong attack the night elves daily."

At the mention of Warsong, Maraad's face darkened. "Warsong. That is Grom Hellscream's clan, is it not?"

"That particular devil is dead, but yes," Maraad agreed. "Gargok Wolfblood leads them now."

Maraad's lip curled back in anger. "To travel so far and find our old enemies here...I shall speak with the Hand of Argus. We will not suffer the Warsong on our doorstep. Not again."

Feero held out his hand, and Maraad clasped it. "It is good to find allies in the Light. For once, fate seems to have sent us friends instead of foes."

"We walk in the Light, and the Light shall shelter us," Maraad agreed, smiling. Then he looked down and smiled at Harry. "Well, it seems you shall be staying with us. Can you make your way back to the orphanage?"

"Yes sir," Harry agreed. "You'll really come and train me?"

"Indeed," Maraad agreed. "We shall discuss it later, but I think you shall become an acolyte of the Vindicar. Be well, Harry Potter."

Harry returned to the orphanage, where Impa and Ruunar were jealous to hear that he would be training with the Vindicators.

"I can't believe it! You barely get here and already you have a chosen path!" Impa complained. "I'm never going to get to leave this stupid orphanage! Ugh, I'll grow old and just be a matron like Maalon!"

"Is that such a terrible fate?" Maalon said gently as she set bowls of stew in front of the children. "The Light guides each of us, Impa. Rejoice for Harry's success, do not be jealous. You too shall have your own place, in time."

"Yes Matron," Impa mumbled, but she still looked upset, kicking her hooved feet below the table.

Over the next few weeks, Harry started his training with the Vindicar. Ruunar showed him some basic sword stances and blows at the orphanage, and when Maraad saw his attack the crystal training dummy he was impressed. "How old are you, young one?" he asked.

"I'm 18 sir!" Ruunar said eagerly, standing at attention before the massive Vindicator.

"Hmm. Young, yet. But you show skill. Continue to devote yourself to discipline and training and in two years time you shall find your place amongst us."

"Harry's only 11 though, and he gets to go! Please sir, I can train too!" Ruunar pleaded.

"Humans do not age as we do," Maraad told him. "They live to be only 120, and quicken much faster than we."

"Only 120?" Ruunar gasped. "But that's so young! My parents were over 600 when they died and everyone says they were too young to be taken."

"Each race must live life in its own way," Maraad said. "Come, Harry."

At first, Harry was trained mostly in mediation and physical exercise. He spent weeks simply dewling on the Song of the Naaru at various places in the Exodar, or running up and down the ramps to build his stamina. After that, he was taken out to Azuremyst Isle, where he practiced focusing upon the Song even when he was miles away from O'ros. He also practiced moving heavy boulders with the broken crews to build his muscles.

After a few weeks, Vindicator Maraad departed with a regiment of Vindicators for the Eastern Kingdoms. "The Legion attacks this world through the Dark Portal. We must end their threat once and for all. I leave you in the capable hands of Vindicator Jol, Harry. I shall look forward to seeing your progress upon my return," Maraad said.

Jol was a stern draenei woman who kept Harry busy from dawn to dusk. He practiced with training blades, continued his exercise routines, and his meditation. Jol had Harry run to Azur Watch and back each day, wearing weighted clothing.

"This shall prepare you to run in battle wearing armor," Jol told Harry. "A Vindicator must have the stamina of a bull talbuk and the strength of a wild elekk. You must never tire and be ever ready to face your foes."

At first this was very difficult, but Harry soon found that by focusing on the Song of the Naaru, his strength and endurance were greatly enhanced. He found he had nearly boundless energy and seemed to be strong enough to move mountains.

"This is good!" Jol proclaimed upon seeing Harry channeling the Light to renew himself after a long run. "You already are blessed greatly by the Naaru. It is time you began to learn how to wield the light, both as shield, and as sword."

Now Harry spent hours learning the basic ways to use the light: as a way to shield allies or repair wounds, and to smite evil. He practiced on training dummies for the most part, but soon Jol took him into the woods to hunt corrupted moon stags and wild ravagers. Once Harry was proficient enough with a blade to look after himself, Jol started to let him go alone, instructing him to bring back the meat and hides to give to the quartermasters in Azure Watch.

One day while Harry was hunting for moon stags, he found Impa sitting by the seaside, staring out at the waves as the came in to the shore of Azuremyst.

"Impa, what are you doing away from the orphanage?" Harry asked.

Impa glared at Harry for a moment, before letting out a heavy sigh and turning back to the sea. "Matron Maalon knows I'm here. She said I needed some time to myself. I just...well, I can't do anything, you know? I'm not very good at magic, I'm rubbish at healing spells, and I'm not as strong or fast as Ruunar. I just don't know. Maybe I'll just be a farmer or matron or something. It's boring, but at least I'll be helping I guess."

Harry sat down by his friend, careful to keep the sword at his side loose in the scabbard. Azuremyst was fairly safe, but there were naga who still lurked nearbye and nightstalkers in the woods. "I think you're pretty great. You're really good with the kids," Harry said. "And you're a good friend to me."

Impa made a rude noise. "I'm hardly a good friend to you Harry. We hardly see each other now that you spend all your time with Vindicator Jol."

"Well, I still think of you as a friend," Harry said, smiling at Impa.

She smiled back, and the two sat on the beach for a while, chatting and looking out on the waves. After half an hour though, the sky began to suddenly darken, and the waves began to crash and swell as the wind picked up.

"Looks like a storms blowing in," Harry said, getting to his feet. "We'd better get back to Azure Watch."

"No, I have to get back to the Exodar!" Impa protested. "I told Matron Maalon I'd be back in time for dinner to help feed the little ones."

"It's a lot farther to the Exodar," Harry warned. "It will take at least an hour and the weather is looking pretty bad."

"We'll be fine. You're a Vindicator in training, right? If things get too bad you can use the Light to shield us," Impa said.

Feeling a swell of pride, Harry agreed to walk back to the Exodar with Impa, though he insisted they take a shortcut through the forest to save time.

They were no more than halfway back when the rain began to pound down and the wind howl through the trees. Thunder roared overhead as lightning boom and struck at trees and rocks around them.

"We have to take shelter!" Harry shouted over the storm. "This is a bad one! We'll get hit by lightning for sure!" he turned toward a thick grove of trees to hide in, but to Harry's shock Impa ran away, heading for a small hill with a mound of boulders at the top.

"Impa, what are you doing!" Harry screamed, running up to his friend and grabbing her arm. "We have to get out of the open or we'll get blasted!"

Impa turned back to Harry, a wild grin on her face. "But Harry, can't you hear it? The storm, it's calling to us!"

"What? Impa, that's insane!" Harry said. "Come on!" He started to drag Impa towards the grove, but she slipped away and scrambled up the rocks. Harry shouted and ran after her, but slipped and fell. He watched in horror as Impa jumped goat-like from rock to rock, until she was at the top of the pile of boulders.

Standing with her arms spread wide, Impa looked up to the raging heavens as the wind swirled around her, causing her dress to flutter wildly. Harry tried to go on, but the wind seemed to form into a barrier, driving him away. Suddenly, a massive pillar of lighting struck the rocks, and Harry screamed in terror. "Impa! NO!"

But when the after image faded, Impa was unharmed. She still stood upon the rocks, and within her hands she held a glowing orb of lighting. She flung it upwards, into the sky, laughing and twirling in the storm. She danced with the wind and lightning, calling fury and power to her as the elements whirled around her.

Hours later, once the storm had passed, Harry made his way out of the crevasse he'd sheltered in. He found Impa sitting cross legged atop the rock pile, her tail swishing happily from side to side. Gingerly, Harry made his way over the slick rocks until he stood just below her.

"Impa, what was that?" Harry asked.

With a wide grin, Impa turned to Harry. "Harry, I think I found what I am after all. I am the storm."

/\/\\\/\/\\\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/

"Oof, that's the last of them, laddie. Ye've done well. Yer almost a fire yerself, ya know."

Ron grinned at Douglas Forgelight, wiping sweat from his brow. He called to Reth, who leapt from the furnace and into the small totem Ron had carved for him.

"That's enough smithing for today, little buddy. Thanks, you can go to sleep now," Ron told the fire elemental. He could feel Reth's satisfaction at having created so much flame and heat, and sense the elemental going to rest inside of his wooden home.

Douglas clapped Ron on the back, sweat gleaming from the old dwarfs bare arms and standing out from his dark clan tattoos. "Mylra was right about ye, young human. Ye've got a gift with the elements ye do. Come, the missus will be havin' summat for supper for the two o' us. An, hopefully my daughter will see fit to come down and join us. Fer once."

"Oh come on da, Mylra's not that bad. She was here just last night," Ron said as they locked up the smithy and headed down the hill to home Ron now shared with the family of dwarves.

"Hmph. Ye only say that 'cause the two o' yeh are like two chicks in a nest laddie," Douglas declared. He was a bit taller than Ron was, even with the inch of growth the boy had enjoyed over the summer and into the winter. There was plenty of snow on the ground as the two tramped back along the path they'd cleared between the house and smithy, but the chill air felt good after the long day working around the hot forge.

Ron didn't say anything, instead whispering to the ice around him. Small ice elementals appeared at his call, dancing around Douglas' feet.

The old dwarf gave a shout and stamped at them, avoiding slipping on the freshly slicked terrain. "Now that's not nice, calling the spirits on the poor old man who's been givin' ye a place to lay yer head and food fer yer belly."

Ron blushed and was about to apologize, when he found a shower of snow flung into his face. He laughed and ducked away, scooping up some snow of his own and flinging it at his foster father. By the time the two got into the Forgelight homestead, they were shivering and soaked from melted snow and ice.

"Douglas Forgelight, you're as bad as that wee tempest ye call yer boy," Isla Forgelight declared, hurrying in from the kitchen. She tossed a pair of towels to Ron and her husband, before giving them both a hug and a kiss on the cheek. "Mylra's just getting changed, she's actually going to join us for supper this evening it seems."

"Atch, two nights in a row? What have we done to deserve the presence of the great and mighty Stormcaller Mylra?" Douglas asked as he scrubbed his wild red beard with the towel. There were streaks of white and grey in the beard now, though Douglas was still strong and hale, as any good Wildhammer dwarf was.

"Did she get word from Dalaran?" Ron asked eagerly. "Does anyone know how I can get home?"

A pained looked passed over Isla, but it was gone in a flash. "Now don't you be worrying about such things, Ronald. Ye come in and have a sit down for supper, ya year?"

Mylra joined them at the table shortly, and everyone dug in. It was hot rabbit stew with thick crusty barley bread to dunk in it, and Ron ate his share eagerly. "So, Mylra," Ron asked, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand after taking a long pull from his watered down beer. "Did you hear from the Kirin Tor?"

Mylra nodded, giving Ron a sad smile. "Aye laddie. They've looked through every tome o' lore they can find. There is no mention o' England or Scotland, or of any land called Briton. I also got a letter from Brann Bronzebeard himself. Even he's never heard o' such a place."

Ron felt the bottom fall out of his stomach, and he pushed away his half eaten bowl of stew, trying to hide his face as he felt tears on his cheeks. It was stupid. After the first time he'd learned that no one had ever heard of England or even Europe or Earth, and that he was in the Eastern Kingdoms on the world of Azeroth, he had known he was probably lost forever. But to have the last chance of finding his way home taken away.

"There, there, laddie," Ilsa said gently, pulling Ron into a hug. "Yer home now. Here, with us. Doug and I have always wanted another son, after Mylra's brothers were killed in the War against the trolls and orcs and demons and such. Ye can stay as long as ye wish, and ye'll always have a place to come back to."

"Thanks, ma," Ron said, wiping his nose and then blowing it into his work cloth. He smiled sheepishly. "I just...well, I miss my family. Mum, and dad, and even Percy and Ginny and the others. And I never found out what happened to Harry and Hermione. For all I know the trolls could have gotten them and eaten them up."

"If they did they paid for it," Mylra said darkly. "Thane Falstad lead the Gryphon Riders into Jintha'Alor. We painted those cursed stones black with their foul blood, and found no trace o' yer friends. The Farstriders raided the Vilebranch and found nothin'. The Reventusk swear up and down they found no humans, but ye can't trust Horde filth as far as ye can throw them."

"That doesn't make me feel any better if Harry and Hermione are dead," Ron said darkly, staring into his congealing bowl of stew.

Isla and Douglas shared a look, then the motherly dwarf swept away the dishes. "Well, who's for dessert then? I've got some nice dried berry tarts with mulled wine from the elves."

Ron perked up at that, but more at the thought of getting to try mulled wine again. The warm spiced liquid would dull his senses, and allow him to forget about days gone by, at least for a little while.

All through the winter, Ron worked the forge with Douglas, hammering out axes and swords.

"The Dark Portal was opened again, cursed thing," Douglas told Ron for the 500th time. "All manner o' wicked creatures come pourin' out of it again. Good news is that not all the expedition perished. Thane Falstad is sendin' two more flight's o' Gryphon Riders through the portal to see after his brother Kurdran."

"Aye, Mylra told me she was going," Ron said. He was starting to pick up dwarvish turns of phrase, especially since they were so similar to the Scottish brogue he was familiar with. "I'm a bit sad I can't go with her actually. Maybe Britain is somewhere through that portal."

"There's not but demons, orcs, and worse things through that portal, lad. Best if ye avoid it," Douglas told him. "Besides, yer still a wee little thing yet. Ain't even got yer first chin hairs yet. Stay here with me, and tend the forge. And o' course, keep practicing with the spirits. Mayhaps one day ye'll be as good a lightning slinger as Mylra is."

"Are ye worried about her, da?" Ron asked quietly while the two took a lunch break. The sun was circling the horizon, though it would sink back down again before long. "About about Donnel and Andrey? You lost them already."

Douglas stared into the flickering flames that Reth cast as he danced amongst the forge embers. "They're with our ancestors now. They died well, keepin' the lands safe. Donnel fightin' the Horde and the trolls, Andrey across the sea killing demons. But aye. I'm worried about my daughter. But she's always been one with the storm and sky. To try to keep her here would kill her. Best that she goes along with the callin' o' the spirits. Ancestors willing, they'll keep her safe enough. Now come on, let's finish up with the axes."

When Mylra left, Ron started to train with Claira Kindfeather, another shaman of the clan. Claira was younger than Mylra, but still strong with the spirits.

"Ye've got a good connection to fire lad, no one's denyin' that," Claira told Ron. "And ye've got mroe than a bit o' the storm in ye. But there's more to bein' a shaman than castin' lightnin' and callin down fire. Ye've got to be in touch with the still waters. With the old stone. Be able to tend to the ills o' the sick and give strength to the clan well yer called on."

"But I'm not a part of the clan," Ron said as they sat on a sunny ledge. It was spring now, and though the snow still peppered the ground, flowers were blooming in places and the days were warmer now.

"Oh ye aren't are yee?" Claira asked, laughing. "Ye live with one o' the best smiths in the Hinterlands turnin' out axes and hammers for the thane. Ye commune with the spirits and are learnin' to ride a griffin back. So what are ye then?"

"You mean...I could become a proper dwarf?" Ron asked.

"Well ye'll be a bit tall for that I imagine, but if ye mean ye can become a Wildhammer, then yes. Ye don't know it yet, but Thane Falstad has his eye on you. We've long been members of the Alliance and close friends o' the humans. It ain't a requirement to be a dwarf to be a Wildhammer, lad, just to live like one."

Ron eagerly embraced this new calling, grateful for a place to belong. He swam in mountain streams, listening to the voice of the currents. He laid upon rock for hours, feeling the groanings of the earth. But the best part was riding a gryphon.

"Well, it seems Sharpbeak has taken a like to yeh lad," Thornar Thunderclash told Ron as the gryphon fledgling eagerly gulped down the brace of rabbits Ron had brought it.

"He just likes the rabbits," Ron said, stroking the gryphon's neck as it nuzzled him, looking for more food.

"Well we'll make a proper rider out of ye yet, lad. Even if yer likely to get too bloody tall for yer own good."

Ron blushed. Not for the first time, he felt a bit guilty and embarrassed that he was likely to get taller. "Sorry," he muttered.

"Don't be!" Thornar laughed, slapping Ron on the back. "Yee lanky bastards have yer uses after all. We need someone to make a great big bloody target for the trolls' arrows. Now, let's see to yer beasts care."

Ron learned how to saddle a gryphon, which was rather trickier than a horse. Though Sharpbeak was still a young gryphon, Ron was light enough that he could mount and ride him for short distances. Once Sharpbeak was saddled up, Ron took the reins, and the young Gryphon lept into the sky.

Wooping with joy, Ron let Sharpbeak have his head as they soared down the slopes. He called upon the wind, giving Sharpbeak a boost, and they climbed up into the wild blue sky. Sharpbeak let out a piercing cry of approval, and together they danced amongst the wisps of cloud.

"I've missed this," Ron said to himself. It wasn't the same as riding a broom, though Ron actually thought it might be better. Feeling a living, breathing being beneath him made the experience even more exciting, especially with Ron calling upon the wind to lend them speed. After about 10 minutes of flying, Ron guided Sharpbeak to a clearing on a hillside to allow his mount to rest before flying back to Aerie Peak. Sharpbeak landed in a flurry of wings, and Ron leapt off to inspect his mount.

He was halfway through checking the barding when Ron senses the spirits stirring. However, he didn't sense any hostility, only a powerful presence. Figuring it to be a fellow Wildhammer shaman, Ron turned around to greet the newcomer, only to let out a cry of alarm and press back against Sharpbeak, who crouched low and spread his wings menacingly.

"Ey mon. Spirits be wit ya. So, you be da young human who be walking the path o' da spirits, ya?"

The speaker was a Reventusk troll, his mottled green skin blending into the surrounding trees and grass. He was wearing thick hide robes, and carried a staff with various totems and trinkets tied onto it with leather cords. His tusks were chiped and weathered, and he leaned upon his staff, as if he were wearied. Ron didn't lower his guard though, having heard trolls were vile and treacherous, and with his own experience with another version of that beast being less than positive.

"I'm Ron Weasley, ward of the Wildhammer clan, yes," Ron said, wishing he had an axe or hammer with him.

The troll nodded, offering Ron a gap toothed grin. "Tazdingo, Ron Weasley. I be Za'pi Boi of da Revantusk tribe, and speaker wit da spirits. I come from Elder Torntusk wit messages from my tribe. We no be wantin' to fight wit da dwarves just now. Da Horde and de Alliance be at peace, fightin' da Burning Legion troo da Dark Portal. Dis be good, mon. Da spirits, dey speak o' a time when de whole world be in danger. By fightin' wit each odder, we just be makin' tings easy for de enemies o' us both, like da Vilebranch and Splirterbark. I be hearin' about ya missin' friends mon. Ya have my sympaties."

"Thanks," Ron said, motioning Sharpbeak down, though he gripped Reth's totem in his pocket. "I um, I hope we get along too. My friend, Mylra Stormborn went with the Gryphon riders through the Dark Portal. I hope she comes back safe."

"Ah." Za'pi rummaged through his collection of amulets, pulling one out that was made of a small troll tusk. "Dis be da tusk o' my daughter, Fi'ya. She went through da portal wit da Horde expedition. I be askin' da spirits dat she and Mylra da dwarf be commin' home safe."

"Um, thanks. I'll ask them the same thing," Ron offered.

"Spirits be wit ya, Ron Weasley. I be seein' ya again some time." With that, Za'pi shuffled off away from Ron, vanishing into the trees.

"That was a close one, boy," Ron said, rubbing the side of Sharpbeak's neck. "Though he seemed a decent enough sort."

Sharpbeak rumbled deep in his chest, then spread his wings pointedly. Ron hopped back on, and together they flew back to the Aerie, though Ron did not soon forget his encounter with the troll.

 _Authors Note:_

 _Some people have mentioned timelines. I'm not going to be strictly adhering to the Warcraft Timeline, as that doesn't allow quite enough time for certain things to happen, and besides which its really a timey-whimey ball. Blame the bronze dragonflight if you must. Instead, there will be 1-2 years between each "expansion" for lack of a better term. So the Burning Crusade will last about 18 months, then a few months later the Scourge invasion begins, and so on. This is mostly to give the cast time to grow up and hone their skills._


	4. The New World II

Hermione sat cross legged in the circle, her body coated in fresh goat's blood as she chanted along to the spell. "01010011 01000101 01001100 01000101 01000011 01010100 00100000 01101001 01101101 01110000 00100000 01000110 01010010 01001111 01001101 00100000 01110011 01110101 01101101 01101101 01101111 01101110 01011111 01110000 01101111 01101111 01101100"

It was a very odd spell to be sure, but Wilfred and K Lee insisted that this was just how things were done.

As she chanted, a black circle appeared at the center of her ritual binding runes. Slowly it grew and gained form, until with a cackle and a burst of flame, a demon appeared.

"Foolish mortal, you have called forth-"

Hermione sprang up eagerly, careful not to disturb the binding runes. "Oh, oh are really an imp? Oh you are! Ahem, um, you are bound to me now, demon."

The imp snarled and conjured a fireball in its taloned hands, and Hermione flinched back, but didn't break the circle. With a shriek of rage the imp flung the fireball at Hermione, only to have it rebound from the wards and strike it in the face. The imp squealed in pain and danced within its bound circle.

"Owowowowowow!"

"Ahem. You are bound to me now, demon."

The imp ceased its dance and glared at Hermione. "Oh alright already. I heard you the first time ya filthy animal. Ugh. Of all the luck. Summoned by a gnome. Wait. Are you a gnome? Oh sweet Sargeras, you're not a gnome at all."

"No, I am not," Hermione agreed. "I am a human."

"A little girl?! ARRRGH!" the imp began to bang its fists into its head. "I am just never never never NEVER going to live this down! A little human girl, summoned and bound. Oh the imp-manity!"

"Well, if you'll just sign this contract then," Hermione said, offering one she'd prepared earlier, in her own blood, of course. "We'll get down to business."

The imp took the contract, conjuring up a small pair of spectacles to put on. "Yeah, yeah. Let's see here. Bound to serve, blah blah blah, can't harm the master, yaddah yaddah, and...what the nether? What's a Britain, and where in the void is Earth, and why the Fel should I take you there?"

"Ah, yes, you see, I seem to have become somewhat misplaced in space, or possibly time, or, in fact, both," Hermione explained. "I'm originally from England, you see. I was learning to be a witch at Hogwarts, when I found myself here. Quite unexpectedly actually. So, if you have any information that would aid me in getting home, you'll be compelled to share it."

"Huh. Well I don't know nothing. Fine, I'll sign. Ugh. Damn warlocks." The imp bit its finger hard enough to draw blood, signing the parchment with a flourish.

Hermione stared at him eagerly. "Well? Do you feel compelled to tell me anything about how to get back to Earth and England?"

"What? No, of course not. I don't-wait. There is...something. Argh! I don't want to tell you, but, it's like I'm being compelled to!" the imp said, falling to his knees and clutching his head.

Hermione nodded eagerly. "That's the contract! If you know anything you have to tell me, it will force you! Come on, say it!"

"If...you...insist...I feel forced...to tell you…"

"Yes? Yes!?" Hermione said, crawling forward on hands and knees to peer at the imp. WIth the contract signed, he was no danger to her now and the wards were unnecessary.

"To tell you to kiss my scaly leather ass," the imp blew a raspberry in Hermione's face and hopped away, cackling.

Hermione sat down with a huff, crossing her arms. "That wasn't very nice of you in the least."

"Well it wasn't very nice of you to drag me all the way across the Twisting Nether and to bind me to your service, ya ugly bint," the imp said, glaring at Hermione from the corner of the wagon where she'd been summoning him. "Hmph. Can you at least dismiss me until ya need me? Being all corporal, it just feels wrong."

"Ugh. Disgusting creature," Hermione said, wrinkling her nose. Then she shook her head. "No, I have a task for you. I need your blood."

"WHAT!?" the imp said, recoiling. "That was not in the burning contract!"

"Subsection 3, under heading h, 'the summonee agrees to supply all bodily fluids and parts to the summoner, up to and including those that would cause painful death.'"

"Not enough to coat yourself in the stuff, you have to exsanguinate me too?" the imp snarled.

Picking up the contract, Hermione read the bottom. "Now you listen here… Pizyap. You're compelled to do as I say. And I'm not going to exsanguinate you. I just need a vial full for our latest experiment. We're trying to see what effect if any demon blood has on the Thought Outsourcer."

"Thought Outsourcer?" Pizyap asked.

"We're attempting to create a device that would allow one to outsource their thoughts to a third party for a period of time to allow one to do things one wouldn't normally contemplate," Hermione confirmed.

Pizyap blinked, scratching its head with a long talon. "Soooo...you're making a something to mind control saps to force them to commit heinous acts?"

"That would be another way of describing the Thought Outsourcer, yes," Hermione said. "Though I would hesitate to put it in such negative terms. As K Lee is always telling me, think positive! Unless one is working with electricity, then one will simply get shocked."

"Well I suppose I don't mind contributing to some nefarious schemes. Provided I get to take it for a test ride some time?" Pizyap prompted.

"Not a chance. The last time we let a demon use one of our devices it was terribly embarrassing for both K Lee and Wilfred. Succubi have the most dreadful taste."

"Wow. I have got to get summoned by insane little girls and their pet gnomes more often. This might actually be interesting. Ok, fine, let's get this OW! You cut me you little bi-"

"The contract also stipulates that you will behave with proper decorum at all times, upon threat of wearing The Outfit," Hermione chided.

Pizyap paused mid swear. "What's...The Outfit? I could hear the capital letters in that, and let me tell ya, I do not like that."

Hermione dug around in a pack for a moment, before pulling out a frilly pink baby onesie.

"Sheesh. Ya don't mess around. Kil'jaeden I'm going to have to watch my mouth. Wait, do you think taking the Deciever's name in vain counts as improper decorum?"

"Only if I'm feeling petty at the moment," Hermione answered primly. "Now turn away, I need to wash this blood off and get dressed, I feel awfully sticky."

"You do realize that human nakedness does absolutely nothing for me, right?" Pizyap said as he turned away.

"That's entirely beside the point. It just wouldn't be decent in the slightest. You are male, aren't you?"

"Do I look bulbous and the size of a beached whale to you?"

"I'll take that as a 'no' then."

Once Hermione was mostly free of the goat's blood, she and Pizyap ducked out of the wagon. Pizyap looked around, sniffing. "Hmm. Faint trace of void, dung, and gronn sweat. Yep, we're in Nagrand."

"Really? You can tell all that from the wind?" Hermione asked, taking out a piece of parchment and scribbling something on it.

Pizyap snorted derisively. "No sweetheart, I can see the fel touched heard of elekk from here. Come on, I'm an imp. I got summoned here loads of times by those pesky orcs."

"Oh, what for?"

"Genocide, mostly."

"Ah. Perhaps we should discuss something else then."

"Why? Genocide's a pretty sweet deal if you like wholesale slaughter. Which I do."

"Ah, there's K Lee. K Lee, I got the blood!" Hermione called, waving the glowing green vial of imp blood.

"Excellent! I see the summoning ritual worked out well for you! That's excellent news! It was created by Kirkhouse the Mighty for summoning demons and sometimes the other races don't see to understand it at all," K Lee chartered as she took the vial of imp blood and flipped down a welding facemask while pulling on insulated gloves.

"It seemed like perfectly simple SQL to me," Hermione said. "Summoning Query Language is a perfectly sound medium for spell casting, the books were very clear on that."

"What's with the getup?" Pizyap asked, hopping forward to watch as K Lee poured the vial into a pewter cauldron. Far too late, he noticed that Hermione was standing well away from the scorched circle surrounding the cauldron. With a mighty WOOSH of flame, the imp blood went into the caldron.

"Oh. That's why," Pizyap croaked, gasping out a puff of smoke. "Well, there goes my eyebrows."

"You really ought to be more aware of your surroundings," Hermione chided.

Later that evening, Wilfred Fizzlebang (Master Summoner) returned with a reeking cart of dung.

"I have returned!" Wilfred proclaimed, leaping down from the cart. "Were you successful in summoning your demonic minion, apprentice?"

"Yes sir," Hermione said. "This is Pizyap, my imp."

"Hmm, a scrawny, malnourished specamine, but it shall do," Wilfred said, examining the imp as it sulked by the fire with various bandages wrapped around it.

"You know I can hear you, right small stuff?" Pizyap grumbled.

"Indeed minion, but I care not, for I am Wilfred Fizzlebang (Master Summoner!), and the demonic forces of this world and all others are mine to command!"

"Oh boy. I bet you've never even heard the phrase small name, big ego, have you hot stuff?" Pizyap asked.

"Hmph. Do not think I do not detect the derision in your tone, foolish minion," Wilfred said. "However, I take solace in the fact that is you who will be compelled to complete my unsavory task, not myself."

"What task are you talking about?" Pizyap asked.

"Behold!" Wilfred said, gesturing to the noxious cart. "I have located the best source for caracoli needed for our latest invention!"

Pizyap looked at the cart, and his ears drooped. "Oh. Yay."

"Oh, it's in the dung is it?" Hermione asked, pinching her nose and eyeing the cart skeptically. "Couldn't you have parked that down wind?"

"Hmmm? Oh, yes. Apprentice, park the cart down wind, as my brilliant intellect has deduced that would be the optimum position for it! And then have your minion extract the caracoli!"

"This is going to be the start of a terrible relationship," Pizyap groused as he got to work digging through the dung for the caracoli berries.

"With that attitude, it will," Hermione informed him. "Do this well and I'll make sure to give you a reward."

Pizyap's ears perked up at that. "Like, maybe some small children to torture?" he suggested.

"I was thinking more along the lines of a nice bath and some sweets," Hermione answered.

Pizyap considered that, then shrugged. "Meh. It beats getting squashed by angry paladins I guess."

/\\\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\\\/\/\/\/\\\/\/\/\\\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\\\/\/\/\/

It had taken about six months (Neville had a hard time keeping track in the constant twilight and night of Teldrassil) but he and Braxiss had finally made it to Darnassus. Much of their time had been spent gathering herbs and brewing potions. To Neville's astonishment, he turned out to be a dab hand at making potions when not in constant fear of his life and given a kind and nurturing teacher. They had also spent a great deal of time sleeping, eating, getting food, and wandering about as Braxiss saw something interesting and wandered over and got lost. By now, Neville was familiar with the massive tree-like beings known as Ancients, and bowed respectfully to them as he passed between the two Ancients of War.

"Ishnu-alah, Sentinels," Braxiss said as they approached two of the female warriors who were guarding the gates of Darnassus. "Tell me, where might I find the human embassy? You see, I found this stray human child, and I wish to return him to his rightful place."

"Braxiss the Sleeper?" one of the Sentinels said. "You've been missing with this human boy for months! We sent out search parties when you didn't return to Darnassus."

"Oh. Have we?" Braxiss sat on his haunches and scratched absently at his hide. He was currently a bear, a form he seemed to assume almost by instinct at times.

"You have," the Sentinel answered. She put a hand on Neville's shoulder. "I apologize, human. Normally the shal'dorei are far more conscientious in these matters."

"No, it's quite alright," Neville said. "Braxiss has been teaching me all sorts of things. Really, I enjoyed it."

"Are your parents or guardians not concerned about you?" the Sentinel asked, frowning down at Neville.

Neville blushed and looked away, thinking of his parents. "My parents...won't miss me. Much. They're...not well. And my Great Aunt, well, she's always saying what a disappointment I am. And no one at school really liked me either. Honestly, this has been the best time of my life."

"Regardless, you are but a child, and need caring for. I am not certain this...druid...is well suited to such."

"Why I've taken excellent care of Neville. He's in good health, has suitable clothing, didn't go hungry, and even learned how to gather herbs and brew potions. He's a remarkably talented pupil," Braxiss protested, standing and turning back into a night elf.

"Hmph. I believe we shall give you an escort to the human embassy in the Tradesmans Terrace. I believe you need an escort. Sentinel Shal'anda, escort this druid and the human."

"Sentinel Shal'anda went home, Lieutenant. She was ill," another Sentinel said.

The lieutenant frowned. "But the rest of us are needed for patrol later. Except for...sigh. Very well. Recruit Elyssia, escort these two to the human embassy."

There was a loud crash, and then the sound of several objects falling over from within the guard barracks nearby. The Lieutenant closed her eyes and seemed to be counting something silently, or perhaps praying. Out of the guard barracks stumbled a young night elf with a bucket on one of her feet, which she was kicking at. Her legs and the hem of her robes were soaked with soapy water, and she tripped, flailing her arms and grabbing the nearby door for support. Managing to steady herself, she kicked off the bucket at last and hurried over, saluting.

"Sentinel Recruit Elyssia reporting for duty, aunty!" Elyssia said, blowing a few stray strands of green hair out of her face as she stood at attention.

"For the last time, Recruit," the Lieutenant growled from between clenched teeth. "When we are on duty I am Lieutenant Glademoon."

"Oh, right. Sentinel Elyssia reporting for duty Lieutenant Aunty Glademoon!"

Several of the other sentinel's sniggered until the Lieutenant glared at them. With a heavy sigh she turned back to her niece. "Escort this druid and the human boy to the human embassy. Ensure that they arrive safely, and do not get distracted. Stay with them until the boy is returned to his rightful guardians or taken in by the humans. Understand?"

"Yes ma'am," Elyssia declared, snapping off a salute. Then she bounced up and down on the balls of her feet twice. "Oh! Oh! Does that mean I get to requisition weapons for this mission? Please? It's my first mission!"

"Oh for Elune's sake girl, you're just going across the city! What do you need weapons for?!" Glademoon demanded.

"But Aunty Glademoon!" Elyssia gasped, covering her mouth with her hands. "You told me a Sentinel must always be prepared to do her duty and to face any foe! What if the legion attacks? What if the scourge comes back? What if black dragons descended from the sky and try to burn the city to the ground?"

"Oh for the love of starlight...Fine! Go requisition some weapons and light travel gear. And put away the mop and bucket while you're at it."

"Ok!" Elyssia turned and grinned at Neville. "I'll be right back Mr. Human sir!"

Elyssia vanished back into the barracks, where there was a sudden shriek, the sound of leather boots slipping on stone, and a crash. "I'm OK!"

"Elune grant me strength," Lieutenant Glademoon groaned. She frowned at Neville. "Please, bear with us a moment."

Neville glanced at Braxiss, who had got back to being a bear and was napping on a nearby boulder. "I think we can do that."

About 15 minute later, Elyssia reappeared wearing modest leather armor and carrying a redwood bow on her back, along with a quiver of arrows and a hunting knife. She hurried to the side of the barracks and whistled.

"Night Fury! Come! We have a mission!"

There was a loud feline roar, and Neville trembled slightly at the realization that this sentinel was going to be bringing one of the giant moon sabers with her. A moment later, two glowing eyes stalked out of the shadows, then the hulking lithe form of an enormous nightsaber appeared. Neville licked his lips and swallowed. He still didn't like those very much, but he was determined to be more brave.

However, the giant cat suddenly stopped, turning around and using it's mouth to grab ahold of something. A moment later, it turned back with a wriggling cub between its jaws. Gingerly, the mother set the cub down at Elyssia's feet. The small grey cub tumbled forward, and Elyssia picked it up, kissing its whiskers and rubbing its belly.

"Oh, who's a good nightsaber? You are! Oh, you're just the cutest little thing aren't you!"

"Meow!" the kitten said, though it was about the size of a full grown tomcat already.

"Recruit! Your nightsaber is your companion and first line of defense! It is not a cute pet!" Glademoon barked.

Elyssia sighed and dropped the kitten down to the ground, where it began to bat at the dangling bow hanging from her back. "Yes, Aunty."

"Don't-ugh. Never mind. Just get going. Remember: Don't leave these two until the young human is either returned to his rightful guardians or delivered safe into the hands of the human embassy. Understand?"

"Understood Aunty Lieutenant Glademoon ma'am!" Elyssia said, snapping off another salute. "Come on Fury! Let's go." Elyssia bounded over to Neville, the nightsaber cub flouncing after her. "Ready to go?"

"Sure. Hold on." Neville took a bottle out of his satchel and withdrew some mageroyal from it. Wetting the dried herb with his lips, he crushed it and held it under Braxiss' snout. "Braxiss, come on, the Sentinel is ready."

"What? Oh! I'm awake, I'm awake," Braxiss said, yawning and sitting up. He scratched at his chin with a paw, then heaved himself up and nodded. "Very well, we shall follow you, Sentinel um... what was it again? Elinda? Starbreeze?"

"Recruit Elyssia at your service master druid sir!" Elyssia declared. "Come on, I know right where to go! I've lived in Darnassus since the city was founded! Even if that wasn't all that long ago I guess."

The night elf capital was an impressive city, looking more like it was grown rather than built. Despite the fact that Elyssia informed him it was only two years old.

"You built this in only two years?" Neville asked, astonished as he gazed about. "I mean, it looks really old. All those vines and ivy and such. Seems like this city must be ancient."

"Yep! Well, I mean, I didn't build it myself. I didn't do anything really. Our old home got destroyed by the legion. That's where my mom died, actually. Aunty Glademoon rescued me and took me in. That's why I'm becoming a Sentinel, just like her! So I can protect people and fight the bad guys!"

"What about your dad?" Neville asked.

"Oh, he's probably dead by now. He should be. He sided with the Betrayer and fled to Outland after the War," Elyssia said. "I don't like to think about him very much."

"I understand," Neville said. "My own parents couldn't look after me and I got taken in by my great aunt. Really, living with Braxiss has been sort of a relief. He never goes on about how rubbish I am at magic."

"Oh, Aunty Glademoon is nice enough, but I do wish I was a bit less clumsy. I try really, really hard, I do! But, I keep getting distracted and breaking the rules. I guess I'm sort of a disappointment myself," Elyssia admitted. "Oh! Here we are, the human embassy. Come on!"

Unlike the surrounding Night Elf buildings that were either tree houses, simple platforms with roofs or pagoda like structures, the human embassy was a brick and mortar building with a tiled roof that looked blocky and out of place amidst the more natural night elf buildings. Out front, two humans in plate armor with blue plumed helmets and a lion tabard were guarding the door.

"Er, hello," Neville said, coming up. "I'm, er, human too?"

"King's honor, friend," the female guard said, nodding to Neville. "What can I do for you today?"

"Um…?" Neville trailed off looking to Braxiss, but the druid was playing with Fury, having turned into a cat. He was batting at the smaller animal, who was growling and pouncing at the druid's paws.

"Hi, I'm Recruit Elyssia! This human is lost. And, um, this druid is sort of absent minded I guess. He was found wandering around Teldrassil a while back and we sort of misplaced him. But that's OK because we found him again and brought him here!"

"Well met, Sentinel Elyssia," the male guard said. "And you as well, young man. Don't see many of our brothers here in Darnassus. Tell me, what brings you here?"

"Well I don't really know actually," Neville admitted. "I sort of woke up in Braxiss' barrow den one day. He's the druid. Er, the bigger cat, that's also a druid. We were sort of hoping that you could tell me where England is I guess so I can go home."

That prospect didn't make Neville all that enthusiastic, but he figured he should at least try to go back to Aunt Augusta.

"England?" the two guards exchanged a puzzled look. "Hmm. Well, we should ask Captain Forthright if there have been any reports of missing boys. Please, come inside and I'll get him from his quarters."

Neville and Elyssia followed the guard, while Braxiss got distracted again and went off to chase butterflies with Fury.

"Missing boy?" Captain Forthright said. He was a big man with a bustling black mustache, which he stroked as he examined Neville. They were standing in his office, where the captain had a desk filled with parchment and inkwells. "Hmm. Don't recall any reports of a missing boy at all. Where did you say you were from, lad?"

"York, England," Neville supplied. "I'm Neville Longbottom."

"Longbottom...Longbottom. Hmm." The captain leafed through some parchment, then shrugged. "Well I can't say I've ever even heard that name. And you say you were found by a night elf druid?"

"Yes sir, his name is Braxiss the Sleeper. He's taught me all sorts of things, herbalism and alchemy mostly. I've actually rather enjoyed my time. I'm sort of an orphan, really. My parents can't look after me, and my other relatives never really liked me all that much, so I don't think anyone will miss me."

"Huh. Well, of course we can look after you," Captain Forthright said. "I'll have you shipped back to Stormwind on the next boat if you think we can find your family there. Though I've never heard of this York or England. Is that in Kul Tiras? Never been there. Maybe we should send you to Theramore instead."

"Please sir, if it's all the same to you, I'd rather stay with Braxiss for now," Neville said. "He's been talking about teaching me to be a druid and really I think it would be quite famous to be able to turn into a bear."

"A human druid? I've never heard of such a thing. Though I can't say that would be bad, mind. I fought with the 7th Legion in the Third War, you know. Those night elf druid chaps were right handy in a fight, let me tell you. Healing the wounded and casting spells, and of course turning into all manner of beasts to slay the demons and undead. Very well. I'll file a report here saying you've been found. Where will you be staying, then?"

"Probably here on Teldrassil near Dolanaar," Neville said.

"Very good. Neville Longbottom of York, staying near Dolanaar. Right, well, if anyone comes looking for you lad we'll know where to send them. Good luck, and Light be with you."

Neville and Elyssia went back outside, where Elyssia scratched her head in confusion. "Well what am I supposed to do now? Aunty Glademoon told me not to leave you until we found your guardians or left you with the humans here, but we didn't do either of those things."

"Ah, there you are young Neville," Braxiss said, walking over back in his night elf form with a sleeping fury curled up in his arms. "You know, I was thinking to myself, it has been a very long time since I've been to Moonglade. And, well, you're rather lost, aren't you?"

"Yes," Neville agreed. "We just talked to Captain Forthright and the humans here don't have any record of me getting lost. Honestly I've never seen anyone like them before in my life so I wasn't expecting much."

"Well, you know, in the Emerald Dream, all things could be found. If we went and asked the Arch Druid or the Keepers what to do with you, perhaps they might know," Braxiss said. "So if we made our way to Moonglade, perhaps we could thereby find your way home."

"You'd be able to find Neville's guardian's in Moonglade?" Elyssia asked, suddenly eager.

Braxiss frowned and blinked at Elyssia. "And who are you, young lady? I'm sorry, but I've quite forgotten your name you see."

"This is Sentinel Elyssia. She's going to help us find my way home," Neville explained. "That's her moonsaber you're holding."

"Oh!" Braxiss started, looking down at the snoring cub. "You know, I couldn't remember where I had found this little one, but it seemed the right thing to do to bring him along. Well, I suppose the two of you should come with us, then. Hmm. I don't suppose any of you can turn into birds of some kind, can you? I'm not very good at flying myself, but I can manage a raven when I have to."

"No, but sometimes I dream about flying," Elyssia said happily. "Oh boy, Moonglade! I've always wanted to go there! I've heard the inn there has the BEST mooncakes!"

"I suppose I could if I had a broom but I don't like to fly very much," Neville said hesitantly.

Braxiss yawned then nodded. "Well, I suppose then we'll just have to take a boat. Hmm. Where could we find one of those, I wonder?"

"Oh, at Rut'theran village!" Elyssia said, standing on her tippy toes and raising her hand. "I've had duty there sometimes. There are boats that go to Auberdine, Stormwind, and even Theramore there!"

"Well then, lead the way, um, Mistress Sentinel. I shall carry this young one and follow along," Braxiss stated.

As with everything that involved Braxiss, things too much longer than they should have. For one thing, first they stopped at an inn in Rut'theran village. Neville was able to pay for their stay and meal by trading various potions and herbs he'd made and gathered, and the innkeeper remarked at how well made the mixtures were. After that they took the day long voyage to Auberdine, where once more they stayed overnight at the inn. They could have flown via Hippogriff to Moonglade, but Neville didn't really like that idea and neither did Braxiss. So instead, they joined a caravan bound for Astranaar in Ashenvale.

"I hope my Aunty Glademoon isn't too worried about me," Elyssia mused. "I'd best send her a report to make sure she knows I'm still doing my duty and everything's OK. Hey! Maybe you can write your parents a letter too, Neville. I'm sure they'd appreciate it."

Neville nodded. "Alright."

 _Dear Mum and Dad,_

 _Hello. I know you can't read this, but I think writing to you helps a bit. I messed up. Again. I know if you were still around you'd probably think I was a useless failure. I couldn't stop Harry and Hermione and Ron and now something happened and I don't even know where I am any more. I was rubbish at Hogwarts, and I could barely cast any spells at all._

 _But now I'm doing something useful. I'm learning all about plants and alchemy from a night elf druid named Braxiss. He's sort of odd and more than a little forgetful, but he's a really good teacher and I like him. He's shown me all sorts of things and how to make all kinds of wonderful medicines. Maybe when I get back I'll know enough herblore and alchemy to cure you. Braxiss has also shown me some druid spells. I'm pretty bad at most of them but I sort of like the healing ones. If can do do those well perhaps I can use them on you._

 _I've also made a friend at last. Her name is Elyssia. She's really old, like 90 or something, but she acts sort of like a teenager still. I think night elves might grow differently than we do. She has a pet moonstalker named Night Fury. Moonstalkers are these really big cats, like giant sabertoothed tigers like the ones that live in the magical zoo in Edinburgh. Except Night Fury is a kitten or something. Eylssia's sort of clumsy but she's really nice and funny. She's also wicked with a bow. I saw her take out a rabbit through the eye at night from 100 yards away! She says that wasn't really impressive because seeing things at night is easier but I think she was just being modest._

 _Anyway, I don't know if I will ever see you again. I think England might be gone, and that means I won't get any more gum wrappers. I still have one, you know. I'm saving it for a special occasion._

 _Love, your son, Neville Longbottom_

Neville tucked the letter into his pouch with the old gum wrapper, where he would take it out and read it sometimes, adding more parchment to it. He didn't think he would ever deliver it, but it felt good to have a connection of home.

 _/\\\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\\\/\\\/\/\/\\\/\\\/\\\/\/\\\/_

 _Authors Note:_

 _This one goes out to all those nelf huntards out there, especially the ones who kept growl on when I was trying to tank for them. No, a turtle isn't a DPS pet (well it wasn't)._

 _Also, Hermione is no more evil in this story than your average gnome warlock._

 _So, you know, pretty evil, but not on purpose._


	5. The New World III

The sun rose over the Temple of the Jade Serpent, peeking out from behind the mists. It glinted off the gilded pagoda roofs and began to warm the tiles, causing the roosters in the yard below to crow.

Luna Lovegood enjoyed the feel of the sun on her upturned face as she sat facing east atop the tallest tower, balancing on one of the beams that hung out over the forest far below. She was in lotus position, meditating. She was really supposed to be meditating on wisdom, but she was mostly meditating on how your nose felt when a bug crawled up it like had happened to Master Thunderbelly last week. On the beam next to Luna, there was a loud yawn, but she didn't open her eyes. A few moments later, there was a louder, more insistent yawn, with much smacking of the lips.

Luna's nose twitched. She wondered if her nose would glow if a lightning bug crawled up it. Again, a yawn came, this time very long to the point of being obnoxious. When Luna still didn't respond, there was a sigh exasperation. "Uggggh. Luuuunnaaaa. I'm booooorrrreeeeddd."

Luna cracked open one eye and glanced over at her companion, who instead of sitting in lotus position, was balancing upside down on her head. "Master Thunderbelly says that boredom is a result of an unordered mind."

"Yeah well Master Thunderbottom is old and boring. Come on, are we really going to spend all morning up here?" Li Li Stormstout did a precarious handspring, landing on one paw as she balanced at the tip of the beam over the courtyard far below. "You can't seriously tell me you're having fun up here. Come on! Let's go exploring."

"There are other, more important things to do before we go exploring," Luna said, closing her eyes again.

Li Li made a disgusted sound. "Yeah? Like what?"

"Like waiting for Cook Honeypaw to finish with her morning baking so that we can steal all of the donuts when she puts them out to cool," Luna stated sagely.

"Oh." Li Li frowned, sitting back down on her beam and leaning over to peer down below her. "Huh. We are right above the kitchens, aren't we?"

"Yes. That is why I am the wisest of the two of us: because I know when the donuts will be ready, and where," Luna said sagely.

"Oh come on. You are like, six months older than me. Maybe. Whatever weird time you kept back in England that doesn't make you wiser than me."

"Technically since I counted from when I was born and not conceived I'm at least a year older than you," Luna answered. This was an old argument though, and the two friends snapped back and forth for a few minutes until Li Li suddenly held up a paw.

"Wait! I think I smell something! Smells like...cinnamon and honey!"

Luna dove off the beam, using her bare feet to hook onto the ledge so she dangled head first over the end of it. Her short hair stayed in its two braids that hung behind her head, and she was able to peer down into the courtyard below. "Hmm. Your nose is still better than mine, but...yes. I can smell it. Definitely donuts."

"Can you see them?" Li Li asked eagerly, also hanging off her beam to peer eagerly below them.

Luna's eyes roamed over the courtyard until she saw a flutter of wings. "There! Those doves just flew away from the ledge. She's set them there to cool."

"Awesome! Race you there?" Li Li asked.

Instead of answering Luna rocked back and forth, flinging herself off the beam and onto the tiled roof below. Her feet skidded on the tiles, but she maintained her balance and rode it down like a slide. Li Li was half a moment behind her, letting out a woop and giggling.

"Shhhh!" Luna scolded. "She'll hear us and we won't get any donuts!"

Once at the edge of the roof, Luna and Li Li ran along it until they passed over a wall. The two girls flipped onto the wall then dropped down so that their hands grabbed a hold of it, then fell once more into the meditation pool below them with two splashes. Luna wriggled up to the surface and jumped out, her wet feet slapping against the cobblestones until she came to the meditation mats, which she used to conveniently dry them. Li Li paused to shake water out of her soaked fur, but was once again half a step behind Luna as they ran over to the wall beneath the window ledge.

"Too high," Li Li observed as they stood below it; the window was a good ten feet up.

"Too high for one," Luna said sagely. "Good thing there are two of us. Hup!"

Li Li ran forward as Luna made a saddle with her hands, tossing Li Li high into the air. The pandaren girl snagged several donuts, then flipped back to the ground. She stuffed one into her mouth and handed the other to Luna, who did the same, then they repeated the maneuver twice more until they each had a small armfull of donuts.

"Perfect," Li Li said around a mouthful of piping hot dough. "Didn't even get caught."

"We're not away clean yet," Luna warned. "Come on, let's head out to the forest before anyone sees us."

The two girls began to sneak along the wall out of the Courtyard, when suddenly there was a shriek and yell behind them.

"Stormstout! Stealing my donuts! You're a disgrace!"

The two girls spun, but Cook Honeypaw wasn't berating them. Instead, they saw Uncle Chen looking sheepish, the platter of donuts balanced on the end of his brewmaster's staff as he balanced on a wall a few feet away from the window.

Cook Honeypaw leaned out on the ledge to continue her harrague. "What sort of example are you setting for those two poor girls? They're off meditating and here you are stealing breakfast instead of waiting like everyone else."

Uncle Chen shrugged awkwardly, one arm still outstretched as he balanced on one paw. He glanced at the girls and gave a small wave. "Oh, I don't know Ling, I think I'm setting a pretty good example personally. They seem to have found the donuts quite well on their own."

Cook Honeypaw gasped and turned to see the girls, who had by this time hidden the donuts behind their backs. Seeing their soaking wet robes and their sticky faces though, the old cook immediately realized what was going on.

"Thieves! Locus! You're worse than a horde of kalaxi raiding my kitchens!"

"Run Uncle Chen!" Luna called. "Grab the donuts and run!"

With a sudden motion, Chen jerked the platter of donuts forward as he flipped off of the wall. With surprising grace for his wide girth, Chen caught the platter in mid air, spilling only a single donut which me managed to grab with his mouth as he landed gracefully on his feet. Holding the platter on high, he ran after the two girls as together they raced off into the forest, the shouts of the angry cook pursuing them.

Once they were about a hundred yards beyond the gate, the three thieves collapsed onto the grass, laughing as they examined their haul.

"Not bad, not bad at all," Chen said, counting up the donuts. "Enough for a respectable feast for us all!"

"We beat you this time," Luna said, grinning as she popped another donut into her mouth. "You were too slow!"

"This old bear just needs a little bit more shut eye than you two spring cubs," Chen said, chuckling. "Ah, but, it seems with age, comes wisdom. For what are you going to drink with your ill gotten feast?"

Li Li and Luna looked around, suddenly wishing they had something to drink.

"Uh, we could go get something from the stream I guess?" Li Li offered.

"No need! I brought some nice plum wine to wash it down with!" Chen produced a keg of his own concoction, passing it around as the donuts rapidly vanished.

Luna, for her part, was no longer the somewhat wafish little girl who had arrived in Pandaria the year before. She'd put on quite a bit of weight, some of it fat, but a large portion of it muscle. She'd also grown quite a bit, over an inch in the year prior. Li Li was a bit jealous of how much taller than her Luna was for now, but Uncle Chen assured both the girls that had a lot of growing to do in the years to come.

"It seems young humans are much the same as young pandaren. Well, with perhaps a bit less fur," Chen told the two as he gave them some towels to wash their faces and hands with.

"How much longer are we going to stay here Uncle Chen?" Li Li once they were somewhat clean, though their robes were still stained and damp. "I want to see England where Luna is from!"

"Hmm. Well, I don't rightly know where that is," Chen admitted. "Perhaps if we journey to the Temple of the White Tiger they may have more information for us. We've examined nearly every scroll in Lorekeeper Stonestep's library with no mention of such a place."

"Cool! I've never been to Kun-Lai Summit! Do you think we'll see Grummles?" Li Li asked.

"Perhaps, perhaps," Chen allowed. "Though I don't know how your father would feel about you coming with Luna and I."

Li Li blew a raspberry. "Just try to leave me behind. I'll just run away again and find you. It will save time and make both our lives easier if you just let me tag along in the first place."

"You should be more grateful your father is still around," Luna said quietly. "I miss mine terribly. I don't know where he is or what has happened, but I wish I could see him again."

An awkward silence descended, with Li Li looking guiltily down at the ground as Chen stared off into the distance. Finally, the big brewmaster put a comforting hand on Luna's shoulder. "We will find him, someday, Luna. I promise." Then he stood, clapping his hands. "But enough of that! We have eaten, and it is only early in the day still! You must begin your training! If you are to become master adventurers such as myself, you must first master your bodies. And learn to defend yourselves."

The two girls worked hard under Chen's watchful eye. While Li Li favored aggressive punches and kicks, Luna fought much as Chen himself did, molding her body away from attacks and lazily dodging aside. She did respond with a few clumsy looking blows that were deceptively hard to avoid and struck home with loud thawks. She didn't totally escape punishment of her own though, getting a few bruises from when Li Li's attacks did strike home. They took a few short breaks, but both had excellent stamina and kept up their sparring for hours.

"Very good! Enough! It is nearly noon now," Chen proclaimed. "See to your wounds. Remember, guide and bind the mists to yourself."

Separating, the two girls nodded, closing their eyes and going through the slow, dream-like motions of the mistweavers that would bring the mists. Slowly, tendrils of mist were pulled from the air around them, washing over the girls and easing their bruises and scrapes. Li Li's mist was much thicker and stronger than Luna's, but both girls managed it.

"Very good! Wise Mari has taught you both well. Come, let us return to the Temple for now. Perhaps Lorewalker stonestep has found something for us. Besides, you are both filthy! You need a bath and a change of clothes before our midday meal."

Luna and Li Li ran off to the initiates quarters where they were staying, while Chen watched them go. He sighed heavily, sitting on the ground and taking out a keg and two tankards from his pack. He poured two mugs, putting one on the ground beside him.

"Well? Any news?"

A shadow formed beside Chen, coalescing into a dark clad Pandaren who kept his face hidden beneath a wide brimmed hat and bandana. He did not sit, but did pick up the tankard and lift it to his lips. After taking a long drink, he shook his head.

"No news at all. The wall is yet silence. The Sha sleep still. The mists have not been breached, and were not breached, so far as our farseers and mistweavers can tell. The girl is an enigma. You should let me take her back to the Monastery."

Chen shook his head, pouring out more beer for himself. "As much as respect as I have for you and your order, old friend, I do not think you are the sort to do well looking after a growing girl. That is not where your talents lie."

"Perhaps. But she could still be a threat to the peace we of the Shado-Pan have guarded for so long."

"The fact you could see one such as Luna as a threat is all the more reason for me to not let her go with you," Chen replied. "Please. Sit with me. It has been too long since we talked, Taran."

With a grunt, Taran Zhu, Lord of the Shado-Pan, took a seat beside Chen, holding out his mug. "I would not, but your brew is as excellent as always, old friend. I can stay a while. Even the Jade Temple needs watching at times."

Chen nodded, pouring out the last of the beer into Taran's mug. "She is strange, this one. I have met humans before, you know, but she is not of Azeroth, I should think. Something is different about her."

"I am inclined to agree," Taran Zhu stated. "You are perhaps the first of our people to leave these lands and return in an age, Chen. But what you have told me of the happenings beyond the mists is most disturbing indeed. Demons from another world. Old gods waking. War between the other races. It does not bode well."

"For now at least, we have peace here," Chen said. "And Luna is a sign: we can live in harmony with the other races of the world, much as we do with the jinyu and hozen."

"You forget the kalaxi, the mogu, and the trolls," Taran Zhu growled. "True, we have banished the trolls from this land for generations, and the mogu and kalaxi are quiet, for now. But not all will be willing to live in harmony with us. We must remain vigilant."

"And we shall. I have told you much, and done much on your behalf on my journeys. If the time comes when the mists fail and we are forced back into the world, which I do believe must happen soon, Luna can be a bridge for us. She can help us find allies amongst the other lands. Much as Rexxar was for me in my travels."

"I do not care for what you have told me of Rexxar the Beastmaster, or his Horde," Taran Zhu growled. "A warlike people. Not something the pandaren should associate themselves with."

"But if war does come, we will have need of such," Chen argued. "The kalaxi are stirring. This is known."

"They stir every 20 years or so. This new activity is nothing," Taran said. "But if it is, my watchers are ready."

"I told you of C'thun and the Old Gods. The Silithid as well. The kalaxi and the sha are not so different. Something is waking within the world. Times change, old friend."

"And we will be ready for them when they do," Taran declared, polishing off the last of the beer. He grunted in satisfaction, and held it out to Chen. "Come to Kun Lai summit, as I said in my letter. I would study this human there."

"She is not an object to be studied, Taran," Chen snapped. "She is a child. A bright, young, happy thing. Do not ruin her with your own doubts and pride."

Taran bristled at the rebuke, saying nothing for a moment. Finally, he returned back to the shadows, vanishing from sight. "I will be watching, as always."

"Just see that your own fear does not rule you, old friend," Chen whispered. "There is so much good in the world, if only you open your eyes to see it."

With a grunt, Chen stood, hoisting his pack and staff to make his way back to the temple. He would take the girls to Kun Lai summit, but not for the reasons Taran wished. They had learned much of the way of the Jade Serpent, beginning to master the use of the mists and the healing arts. Now, however, Chen wished to give them the strength of the White Tiger. He did not know what the future held, but he was determined that his two girls would not face it unprepared.

/\\\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/

The sky was overcast that night, obscuring the twin moons and letting through hardly any light at all. The lamps on the boat all had bullseye lenses to keep their light from spilling beyond where it was needed to prying eyes. Ginny kept her hands on the tiller, listening to the slapping of the waves as her heart beat rapidly inside of her chest.

"Two points to starboard," Helix's harsh whisper called. "Take in the sail. We're approaching Scarlet Point."

Ginny looked up to the top of the mast where Vanessa was taking in the small ships sails.

"Yeah. Here's good. Drop anchor," Helix ordered.

Ginny quickly raced over and with a grunt, lifted the heavy anchor, carrying it over to the side. She dropped it in with a splash she thought was much too loud, playing out the line as the anchored sank to the shallow bottom below them.

"Mrrrggllle," Cookie growled as he patted up from below deck.

"Yes, I'm certain," Vanessa said, dropping down onto the deck with cat like silent grace. "You're staying aboard. Ginny, Helix, with me. Into the dingy."

Ginny scrambled over the side into the small dingy as Helix took up the oars, which were wrapped in cloth. Vanessa carefully pushed them away from their ship, and the dingy slid away as Helix began to row them towards the shore. In the distance, laughter could be heard as lights played over the waters from the flee of three black sailed ships that were anchored off of Scarlet Point.

"Right, one last time," Vanessa said in low tones as they approached the shore. "Helix, you're with me. We get the head of Fleetmaster Firallon, then set fire to his ship. When everyone rushes aboard to take it, we go aboard the _Sea Dog_ and take her. Ginny, you stay with the dingy. If anything goes wrong, we'll hoof it back to you and row back to the _Stone Daughter._ If all goes well take your potion and swim out to us Any questions?"

"Are you sure I can't come with?" Ginny hissed. "I've been practicing with the knife, I'm pretty good. And you can hardly see me when I try and sneak now."

"You still need practice, and besides, you've never even killed a man. This is going to be boody work. Helix, do you have the bombs?"

"Do I have the bombs. Lady, I always have bombs. At all times. You should just assume I have some explosives with me, no matter what is happening."

Vanessa growled in the darkness.

"I mean, yes ma'am. Got them bombs right here. Yep. All ready to go miss captain."

"Good. Ginny, once you see the Sea Dog pull away leave the dingy and swim out to us. Cookie can manage the Stone Daughter alone and will meet us around back of Jagero. Savvy?"

"Savvy," Ginny agreed, feeling scared out of her wits and worried with Vanessa and Helix both leaving her.

The dingy scraped against the shore, and Vanessa and Helix stole away, making hardly a sound and vanishing from sight. It was a pretty neat trick, the one Vanessa had taught Ginny in fact. It was a sort of magic Ginny supposed, though Vanessa said it wasn't magic at all, just a trick. Still, Ginny didn't think muggles could just melt into the shadows like that, though as far as she could tell there were no muggles in Azeroth, just various kinds of magic that was called different things.

She crouched low in the dingy, her eyes glued to the distant lights of the three ancored pirate ships as she toyed with her night. She bit her lip, hoping and praying that Vanessa would be alright. After losing her family and her world, she just didn't know what she would do if she lost her new big sister. She was so focused on the distant light of the ships she never heard the crunch of boots on sand.

"Wha...whash this, then? 'Ow'd you get here, hic?"

Ginny jumped up, dropping her knife with a dull thunk and spinning about to find the dark shape of a Bloodsail Buccaneer looming over her. She blanched at the foul stench of his grog laiden breath, and shrank back, only to hit the keel of the dingy.

"Heyyyy. Wait a *hic* minute. You ain't...you ain't on o' us. Who are you, then?" the man drunkenly demanded, stumbling forward up against the prow of the small boat.

"I'm just out for a night paddle," Ginny said, panic rising in her chest as her heart pounded away. "I'm um, just leaving now. Going to head back to my ship out to see. See you later, um, matey."

The man leaned forward into Ginny's face, blinking stupidly. His face was pockmarked and scared, but suddenly he gave a wicked grin and grabbed on to Ginny's shirt.

"A girl? Well, thish is the luck! I was wantin' something else after the grog, but Farlena turned me down. Damned wench."

"Let go!" Ginny snapped, punching the man in the gut. "I don't want you either!"

The man let out an oof and backed away, clutching at his gut. Frantically Ginny tried to cast off, to get the boat out into the surf and way from the drunken pirate. She didn't get very far though, as a hand smacked into the side of her head sending her sprawling down into the boat. She flipped over, panting and gazing up in terror at the leering pirate.

"Don't think you got a choish, girl. I've got an itch, and you're gonna scratch it. If you're good, I'll let you go when I'm done with you. If not, well, the boys back aboard could use a new plaything. Our last one got broken. If you're not careful, you'll end up the same way."

Ginny resisted the urge to scream as the man clumsily lowered himself into the boat, pawing at Ginny and tugging at her clothes. He fingers scrambled on the bottom of the boat, ahd she let out a gasp as she cut herself on something sharp. Realizing what it was, she siezed her knife she had dropped earlier.

"Don't struggle now. And no screamin'. I'll get a bleedin' headache I will and then the lads will come before I've finished adn I'll urk-!"

Ginny put her hand over the pirates mouth, grimacing as she withdrew her heavy sailors knife from his groin. She pushed the man onto his back as he struggled, jumping onto his stomach. He let out a soft groan and then bit at Ginny's fingers, drawing blood, but she didn't take them from his mouth.

"Shhh. Try not to struggle. You'll make an awful mess if you do," Ginny said sweetly. "You said you wanted to have some fun, right?"

The pirate nodded frantically, his eyes bugging out of his head.

"Well. This will be fun for me then." Ginny slashed her knife viciously across the man's throat, keeping her hand pressed up against his mouth. He tried to scream, but only a soft gurgling hiss came out. Ginny cut at the throat again as the man thrashed under her. Then she stabbed at his right eye, driving the knife upto its hilt into the man's brain. He twitched a few times, then lay still.

Panting heavily, Ginny suddenly realized what she had done, and what had almost happened. She lunged for the side of the boat, vomiting noisily and messily into the damp sand. She emptied her stomach until only bile came up, then grabbed her canteen and rinsed her mouth out. She sat back, looking at the dead body in the dingy, a growing pool of blood underneath him.

"Well. That's a fine mess."

It took a few minutes for Ginny to get the dead pirate out of the dingy and toss him into the surf, where the body rocked back and forth in the waves. She sank back into the dingy, breathing hard and feeling totally drained. She didn't have long to recover though, as the night was suddenly rent with the bright flash and thunder of a distant explosion. Ginny gasped, watching as fragments of wood tumbled away from the now burning ship. There were shouts of alarm and bells began to ring as the beach suddenly came to life like a kicked anthill. Ginny held her breath, watching the closer of the two remaining ships.

After what felt like hours, one suddenly brought up its ancor as its sails lowered, darting out to sea under the stiff breeze. Jamming her knife into her belt, Ginny ran forward into the surf, taking out a potion from her pocket and chugging it. She dived into the waves as she fetl the magic rush threw her, and Ginny began to swim at a pace that would have made an olympic gold medalist jealous. Within a few minutes, she swam up to the Sea Dog, and a line was lowered. Taking hold, Ginny found herself hauled up on deck and pulled aboard by Helix.

"What the blazes happened to you?" Helix demanded when he saw that Ginny's clothes were drenched in blood. "You know what, never mind. This ship is a pain in the ass to two man and we need you. Get up there and get those sails unfurled!"

Without questioning Helix, Ginny raced to the lines and scrambled up them. Not taking the time to untie the sails, she slashed at the ropes with her knife, causing the sails to drop away from the mast. They filled with the stiff sea breeze, and the _Sea Dog_ lept away from the burning reck behind them, as a second explosion shook the night. The last of the pirate ships, which had been making sail after the fleeing _Sea Dog_ had run into a mine, left as a present by Helix. It began to list and heel as it took on water, with curses and a few stray shots raking the deck of the _Sea Dog._

Shortly after, the Stone Daughter caught up to them, and was tied up at the rear of the Sea Dog. Cookie scrambled aboard, and Vanessa shouted down from the quarterdeck.

"Change of plans! With that last ship crippled we can make straight for Booty Bay! Ahah! At last we have a proper ship of our own!"

"You got it, captain," Helix called up. "Um, what are we going to do with the idiots below decks? What's that mind poison stuff going to wear off?"

"Not for hours yet," Vanessa called. "We'll take them into Booty Bay and turn them over to the Port Authority. Make a pretty penny while we're at it. Now trim those sails, I want to be there with the morning tide!"

Ginny scrambled to obey, and by the time the sun rose as the _Sea Dog_ approached Booty Bay, she was completely exhausted. She could do little more than cling to a line as the ship dropped anchor outside of the harbor. Not long after, several Booty Bay harbor patrol boats raced forward as Helix hoisted Vanessa's banner: a skull with a crimson mask and crossed stone mason hammers behind it.

"Ahoy the _Sea Dog_! What are you doing in the waters of Baron Revilgaz flying a strange banner?"

"This is no longer the _Sea Dog_!" Vanessa shouted back. "This is the _Defiant_! Seized as a prize from the Bloodsail Buccaneers because you bloody scoundrels wouldn't sell me a proper warship! I am Captain Vanessa Vancleef!"

That brought a stir of activity from the boats. "Vancleef, you say?" a deep, booming voice called. Ginny peered over the gunnels to see Fleetmaster Seahorn himself standing on the prow of a new ship coming forward, the _Filthy Lucre_ , flagship of the Steamweedle cartel.

"That's right, Fleetmaster! Your brother, Smite, served with my father! I am here to reclaim my birthright, and to restore the Defias Brotherhood!"

"I see. Well, permission to come aboard, Captain Vancleef," Seahorn shouted.

Vanessa bowed deeply. "Granted."

A few minutes later, Seahorn stepped board along with a goblin mage, who had created a portal for him between the two vessels. Seahorn glanced around the ship, snorting in surprise. "A crew of four? A murloc, a goblin renegade, and two human girls? You stole the pride of the Bloodsail fleet out from under Firallon's nose?"

"Actually, we brought that with us," Vanessa said, nodding to Helix. The goblin waddled forward, cringing under the gaze of the tauren admiral.

"Um, here you go, boss. Maybe take this in payment of my own noggin?"

Seahorn accapted the filthy sack from Helix, reaching in and pulling out the rank head of Fleetmaster Firallon. He grinned wickedly. "Well, well, well. I will indeed accept this in the stead of the head of Helix Gearbreaker, even if you did steal from my own personal machine shop."

"Much obliged," Helix said, quickly slinking away.

"We have captives below deck," Vanessa declared, striding forward. "I would like to claim the bounty upon them and of course, the deceased fleetmaster there. With that, I intend to raise a crew and bring justice to Stormwind."

"Hmph. So you'd sail to meet the same fate my little brother did?" Seahorn demanded, turning to Vanessa. He shook his head, his massive horns swishing through the air. "Don't do it, girl. Even if you were to raise a crack crew, you're no match for the Stormwind armada. Instead, why don't you take commission here. I could use a fearless captain and a fine vessel like this."

"I'll never be bound to anyone as a slave," Vanessa snapped.

Seahorn shook his head again. "Not a slave, nor a servant. Merely an independent contractor. We'll give you the bounty, yes, you've more than earned that much and the Baron is a goblin of his word. With that you can raise a crew. But what about supplies? Repairs? A port to return to in a storm? That will take something more. Agree to do jobs for us, and I'll see to it this vessel is outfitted and repaired. She could use a drydock, I imagine. Been awhile since her hull was scraped, the Bloodsail were always lazy bastards."

"Mrrrggllle. Mraw," Cookie called from the wheel.

Vanessa considered, studying Seahorn. At last, she spit into her hand and held out it. "Deal."

Grinning, Seahorn did the same, and the two clasped hands. "It will be a pleasure doing business with you, Captain Vancleef."

Once the captives were taken away, Seahorn assigned several sailors to run the ship, much to the exhasted Ginny's relief. However, isntead of a nap, they were all taken to the Salty Sailor Tavern, to a feast hosted by Baron Revilgaz himself.

"Ye've done me a fine service, captain," the Baron told Vanessa, raising a glass of fine Northshire wine to her. "Booty Bay is in your debt. I will gladly honor my Fleetmaster's pledge, and pay for the refit and repair of your vessel, along with provisioning it and helping to finance a crew."

"I choose the crew though," Vanessa insisted. "They'll be members of the Defias Brotherhood. Not your toughs."

"As is the right of a free captain, of course," the Baron agreed. "But you'll need good officers. I have a few suggestions. Merric "Ripsnarl" Jones would make a good ships master for you."

"Merric Jones is still alive?" Vanessa asked, clearly shocked. "He worked with my father. I thought he'd died when the Stormwind division was raided."

"Oh, he washed up on these shores sometime ago," Revilgaz said, smiling and winking. "Though he's a bit different than you may remember him. Had a bad experience in Duskshire. But enough of that. Tonight is about you, and your brave crew. To the crew of the Defiant! My your coffers never be empty!"

The assembled guests all cheered, even Ginny, tired as she was. She drank herself into a stupor at dinner, passing out at the table. Thankfully, as this was Booty Bay, such behavior wasn't considered rude or unusual in the least.

The next morning, Ginny awoke with a pounding headache in a fine room in the Salty Sailor. She groaned and hurried to the privy, then slunk back into the room with a pounding headache. To her surprise, she found Vanessa waiting for her. The older girl was sitting on Ginny's bead, sharpening her knives and dressed in black leather with a red bandana on her head to tie back her hair.

"I saw what you looked like, you know," Vanessa said quietly. She put away her knives and patted the bed. "Come sit. Tell me what happened."

With a sob, Ginny ran forward and threw herself into Vanessa's arms. It all came out, the horrid pirate, his lecherous intent, and Ginny murdering him.

"And I enjoyed it," Ginny sobbed. "Oh Vanessa, it felt so good to slit his throat! It wasn't until after that I felt guilty in the slightest, and honestly i was more miffed that I'd sicked up than that I'd killed a man."

"Shhhh, it's alright," Vanessa said, stroking Ginny's hard as she hiccuped on Vanessa's lap. "You did well. It's alright to feel good after you kill an evil man. What you did was justice, nothing more, nothing less."

"I suppose you've killed loads of people," Ginny sniveled. "I bet you don't throw up or cry when you kill someone."

Vanessa paused in her stroking for a moment, then sighed and helped Ginny sit up. She put her hands on Ginny's shoulders and looked into her eyes.

"The first person I ever killed was a Stormwind guard who was trying to gut me and leave me to burn on my father's ship after he'd been murdered and his head hacked off. I threw acid in his face, then put a poisoned knife in his belly and left him to burn. I was ill the moment I was safe. I cried for days. Sometimes, I still see his face at night. Yes, Ginny. I'm human. I feel. Even when I kill filth like Firallon. It has to be done, but it's not pleasant."

"Really?" Ginny asked, feeling very small.

Vanessa nodded, then wrapped Ginny in a warm hug. "Really. But it does get easier. You learn to take satisfaction in your work, in the good you do."

Ginny nodded, smiling and wiping away her tears as they seperated. "Thanks. I'll try not to be such a blubbering baby."

"You're doing fine. Here. I wanted you to have this." Vanessa held out a scarlet bandana, much like the one she was wearing. "It's offical. You're now a member of the Defias Sisterhood. I had to keep the old name for everyone else, you see, but between you and me that's what it is properly now."

Ginny giggled, then quickly tied the bandana onto the back of her head to keep her hair up like Vanessa had. "Thanks. I swear, I'll live up to the faith you've put in me."

"I know you will," Vanessa promised, smiling at Ginny. Then her expression turned serious. "Now, I'm going to need your help in picking out our new crew. We'll need good men, and loyal. No spies for Stormwind or the Baron's moles. This one ship is just the start. By the end of this, the world will fear the name Vanessa Vancleef."

Ginny nodded eagerly. "Of course, captain. I'm your girl."

/\\\/\\\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\\\/\/\/\\\/\/\/\/\\\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/

 _Authors Note:_

 _Some people have been speculating about classes and specs for our heroes (and professions). I'd like to point out that this is a story, not a video game. So Harry will likely call himself a Vindicator, and use spells and abilities you'd recognize as a paladin's, but he's not going to be locked into a certain set of game mechanics (and he's not likely to become obcessed with making dresses and turning them into magic dust). Plus, what a certain class/spec can do has changed so much in the decade plus I've been playing WoW that it would be pointless to try._

 _In short, you can expect Ginny to be a swashbuckling pirate, Harry to be a holy warrior, Ron to be a master of the elements, Luna to be, well, Luna but with punching, Neville to have a strong connection to nature, and Hermione to be as gnomish as it is physically possible to be._


	6. The Lands Beyond I

On planet Earth, there are few places less hospitable to human habitation than the very misnamed Greenland. Despite being the world's largest island, it has a tiny population of only about 50,000, all clustered along the somewhat less frigid southern coast. Inland, very few creatures live at all, and it is rare for humans to venture there. Occasional expeditions to measure the glacial ice take place, but even in high summer it is a cold, alien world.

However, something worse than barrenness had come to Greenland's glaciers. Unlife.

Within the Stauning Alps, hidden within an icy cavern, Voldemort had lost his battle for control of what remained of his soul. But he had traded that control for something else: Power.

 _ **NOW, MY SERVANT. YOU HAVE ALL YOU NEED. BIND YOUR SOUL FROM YOUR HORCRUXES INTO THE PHYLACTERY.**_

No longer corporeal, Voldemort relied now on his followers to do his bidding. Thankfully, with the power Ner'zhul had lent him, overcoming the guards of Azkaban had been a trifle. "Bellatrix, affix the runes upon the vessel," he hissed through the dead lips of Quirrell. The poor man was now a mindless thrull, but that suited Voldemort's purposes nicely.

Chanting, Bellatrix formed a circle with the Lestrange Brothers and Rookwood as the last of the unholy runes were bound to the stone jar that had once contained a saint's ashes. Voldemort felt his spirit sucked out of Quirrell and into the jar, where for a time, he lost all sense of time and place. Slowly, ever so slowly, he reformed. At last, he burst forth from his phylactery.

"I AM REBORN!" Voldemort flexed his new body, examining the bony hands and frame that now glowed with power.

"Master!" Bellatrix cried, throwing herself at his feet. "Master, you are with us once again!"

"Yes…"Voldemort said, clenching a skeletal fist. "I am. Lord Voldemort has returned."

 **YOU HAVE DONE WELL, SERVANT. NOW, WE SHALL BEGIN OUR CONQUEST OF THIS WORLD IN EARNEST.**

Voldemort turned to the icy block in which the head of Ner'zhul lay.

"What makes you think I shall serve you now," he hissed, his bones rattling as he drew himself up. He conjured up chains and ice, ready to hurl them at the block and shatter it forever.

 **BECAUSE, WHAT IS A LORD BEFORE HIS KING?**

The chains and ice suddenly snapped toward Voldemort, binding and freezing him in place. He let out a piercing howl, but found himself unable to act against the Lich King.

"No! I am Voldemort! I am the Master!"

 **FEAR NOT MY SERVANT. YOU SHALL INDEED BE MASTER OVER THESE LANDS. I DO NOT REQUIRE A DOG, BUT A LORD IN TRUE. YOU SHALL BE MY HAND AND PROPHET, SPREADING MY GOSPEL OF UNDEATH TO THIS PATHETIC WORLD.**

"Master?" Bellatrix said, staring up at Voldemort. "Why do you not bind this spirit to your will or destroy him?" The other escaped Death Eaters drew near, clutching wands in their hands.

 **SHE SHALL BE THE FIRST. TAKE HER. I REQUIRE A NEW VESSEL. SHE IS A POWERFUL MAGIC WIELDER. PLACE HER UPON THE THRONE, AND I SHALL NO LONGER BE THE LICH KING, BUT THE LICH QUEEN.**

Without thinking, Voldemort complied with the will of his master, finding that he could no longer distinguish between his wants and needs and that of Ner'zhul. He was not the Lich King, but his will was that of the Lich King, and the word of his Master was Law.

"MY LORD NO!" Bellatrix begged as chains bound her and dragged her toward the throne as Voldemort broke free of his restraints. "My lord, I served you faithfully! I am yours, please! Do not do this to me!"

"In the end, all shall serve," Voldemort answered. "There can be only one Master of the Scourge."

With a last scream Bellatrix was bound to the block of ice as the chains wrapped around her. Her eyes began to glow with an inner blue light, and her screams faded, replaced by cries of ecstasy.

 **YES. YES! THIS BODY IS POWERFUL, IT'S MAGIC STRONG! YES! I SHALL MAKE IT YOUNG AND NEW AGAIN! BEHOLD! THE MIGHT OF THE LICH QUEEN!**

Bellatrix's body began to change. Her flesh, once withered by age and torture became supple and full again. Her muscles became taught and powerful, her form youthful and voluptuous. However, her beauty was not earthly. Her skin became paler than snow, her eyes glowed with a blue light, and her dark hair bleached white.

Grinning, the new Lich Queen stood. From the ice, she transfigured a regal silver crown with a glowing blue sapphire set in its center, which glowed with an eerie blue light. Setting the crown upon her head, she frowned, looking at her empty hands.

 **FROSTMOURNE STILL LIES IN THE HANDS OF THE USURPER. I REQUIRE A NEW BLADE. YES. A BLADE FOR MYSELF.**

Lich Queen turned to the trembling Death Eaters, who were bound by the icy chains of Voldemort. She strode forward, caressing the cheek of her former husband.

 **AND BLADES FOR MY NEW CHAMPIONS. YOU SHALL BE MY NEW DEATH KNIGHTS. YOU SHALL EAT DEATH, AND THEN SPREAD IT THROUGHOUT THE LAND. BUT FOR THIS, WE SHALL REQUIRE SMITHS. TELL ME, WHO MAKES THE FINEST RUNEBLADES IN THIS LAND?**

"The...the goblins, my love. Don't you know that?" Rastaban Lestrange asked.

The Lich Queen paused, nodding. **YES, I DO. THE MERGING IS NOT YET COMPLETE. HMM. I SHALL REST. LORD VOLDEMORT. TAKE THESE MINIONS AND PROCURE FOR ME GOBLIN SERVANTS. THEY SHALL FORGE MY NEW RUNEBLADE, AND BLADES FOR MY CHOSEN KNIGHTS.**

"As you command, Mistress," Voldemort agreed. He floated forward, dismissing the chains. "Death Eaters! Your master comes with a new task. We shall find goblins to make us blades. I see in your eyes you doubt me. Do you think Lord Voldemort lacks power? That he has given his freedom for nothing? I serve now the Lich Queen as his chosen executor! It is by my will that this land shall be covered in ice and death, that a new dawn for wizards shall rise! We shall defeat death by embracing it! The muggles will be but our thralls, as we gain immortal forms of great power! Behold! I have returned from death twice, and now I AM death!"

The Death Eaters groveled, their minds and wills already broken and weak. "Yes, my lord."

As the lich and his minions departed, Bellatrix sat upon the block of ice, becoming encased in it. Slowly, over the course of the next few months as the goblin slaves arrived and began the great forging of her Runeblades, the woman who had been Bellatrix faded, as did the spirit of the orc who had once been Ner'zhul. They become one: the Lich Queen of Earth.

 **IN THE END, ALL SHALL SERVE THE ONE TRUE QUEEN**

\/\\\/\/\/\\\/\/\/\/\/\\\/\/\/\/\/\\\/\\\/\/\\\/\/\/\

"Hello the forge! Any wee humans about?"

Ron dropped the blacksmithing hammer to the floor and ran outside, leaving the axe he'd been working on hot on the anvil. He pelted down the hill, jumping onto Mylra and nearly knocking her over with his bear hug.

"You're home! I thought you weren't due back for weeks yet!" Ron said, standing back and grinning down at his adoptive sibling.

"Off! They let me an' Stormbeak off early since Thane Kurdran needed a message sent to his brother. I just finished deliverin' it and decided to come and see you. Where are ma and da off to?"

"Taking a shipment of weapons to the Argent Dawn at Chillwind Camp. They left me behind to mind the forge."

"Oh? Well, I hope they'll be well. Have the Scourge been causing trouble of late?" Mylra asked as they made their way up to the forge. "And ye've gotten too tall ye great bloody bastard. Since when were yeh taller than me?"

Ron laughed and rubbed the top of his head. "I don't rightly know. Ye've been gone for so long that I can't quite ken when that happened. Probably sometime last winter when I passed da up. And yes, the Scourge are quiet. Too quiet, some say. Naxxramas packed up and left a few months ago after the Argent Dawn cleansed it, according to rumor."

They entered and Mylra stripped down to her leather vest, putting on a pear of smithing gloves and an apron. "Well, let's just finish up this then so ye can show me that wee gryphon ye've been writing me about every other day."

"Aye, but Sharpbeak's no a wee bird anymore," Ron said, then leaned over to breath on the axe. It glowed red hot under his breath as he channeled Reth's heat into it. That chapped his lips, but Ron licked them with a bit of water spirit in him to sooth it away. He picked up the hammer and began to pound away. "So, Illidan's dead, is he?"

"Aye, the Warden's took his remains away," Mylra agreed, taking up the tongs to turn the axe as Ron pounded away. "Thane Kuradin and the rest o' the riders will be returning within a fortnight. We'll have a grand feast then we will."

"Perhaps things will be peaceable then, at least for a time," Ron said, but his heart wasn't in it.

"Ye don't believe that, do ye lad?" Mylra asked, eyeing him.

"No. I've been talkin' with Za'pi and Claira, and some o' the other shamans. The spirits are restless. Especially the ones o' the storm and snow. Somethin' bad is comin' out o' the north," Ron said darkly as he pounded away at the axe.

"Aye, we had the same word at the Dark Portal. But, did you hear? The humans went and found their missing king after all this time."

"Aye, so I've heard, but Varian Wynn is no king o' mine," Ron declared. "I might be human, but I'm as certain as my hair is red that I was no born here on Azeroth. I'm a Wildhammer now though."

"I noticed the accent I did," Mylra said dryly. "But ye will notice I said 'the humans' not 'you humans.'"

"Sorry," Ron said, grimacing as he plunged the axe into an oil barrel. "I just...I want to belong so, so badly. This world is so strange to me, and this is all I know now. Being a Wildhammer...it would make me feel like I have a home again."

"And ye'll make a thumpin' good one too," Mylra said, punching Ron in the arm. "Now, that's done for the axe. Now let's go and introduce me to Sharpbeak proper like."

Two weeks later, Douglas and Isla returned from the Plaguelands.

"Strange things happenin' out there," Douglas said at the evening meal. "Did you know, the Kinslayer himself showed up at Light's Hope Chapel a few weeks back?"

"No? Arthas? In Lordaeron again?" Mylra gasped. "Are the Scourge mobilizin'?"

"No, Highlord Tirion Fordring reappeared he did," Isla said. "Showed up at the last moment bearing the Ashbringer. Turned back Arthas and somehow broke his hold over his Death Knights."

"He did what?" Ron asked, confused. "Who's this Fordring?"

"Sorry lad, he was a paladin, one o' the old Knights of the Silver Hand. He was one of the great human heroes along with Uther the Lightbringer," Douglas explained. "And the Ashbringer, well, that's a legendary blade that is. It was lost for a time, but it seems to have returned in the hands of the new Highlord of the Argent Crusade. Says he's going march on Icecrown Citadel itself."

"That's a fools errand that is," Mylra said. "Muradin Bronzebeard died in those frozen wastes, and he was a mighty hero. Without the backing of at least the Alliance, he'd never stand a chance."

"He'd need both the Alliance and the Horde," Isla said, clucking as she set a fresh basket of rolls on the table. "The Scourge was only turned back in the last War because both of them worked together. And there's faint chance o' that ever happenin' again."

"I don't know, Za'pi seems a decent sort," Ron argued. "Maybe the other races aren't so bad."

An awkward silence fell over the table, until Douglas stood, glaring at Ron. "I told you to leave that troll well enough alone! He's not but trouble! Nothin' good ever came from the trolls!"

"But da, he's a shaman, like me! He's been showing me how to talk to water spirits, you know I've always been rubbish at that!" Ron argued.

Douglas looked ready to spit nails, but Mylra put a hand on his arm and the old dwarf sat back down. "Da, I've worked with troll shamans in the fight against Illidan," she said quietly. "They're still ugly buggers, but they're not all evil. I've met Za'pi's daugher, Fy'ra. She's a decent sort. Well, for a troll. We both joined the Earthen Ring in Outland."

"Earthen Ring?" Douglas growled. "What's that?"

"It's a collective of shamans from across two worlds," Mylra explained. "They're having a summit in a few weeks at the Summer Solstice. I'd like to take Ron with me."

"Where is this summit taking place," Douglas demanded. "And what sort of shaman will be there?"

"It's taking place in Kalimdor at a Goblin Port named Ratchet. The leaders will be Farseer Nobundo of the Draenei, and Thrall, Warchief of the Horde. I am to go as the representative of the Clans."

"You're going to treat with the bloody Warchief of the Ancestor's cursed Horde?" Douglas shouted, throwing his hands up in the air. "That's insanity!"

"You do remember that Andrey fought alongside Thrall and the Horde at Mount Hyjal, don't ye Doug?" Isla demanded.

Douglas grunted, looking down. After a moment, he looked up, tears in his eyes. "I just worry about ye, girl. And ye too, Ron. Yer all this old man has left. If something were to happen to ye...I don't know what I'd do."

"Da, it will be fine," Ron assured him, leaning over to squeeze Douglas' arm. "The summit will just be shaman. We're not there to fight, just to listen to the spirits."

"Well, I guess I can no keep yeh from followin' yer path lad," Douglas said. "Go then, with my blessing. You'll do us and the Clan proud."

They set out a few weeks later, close to the Summer Solstice. It was Ron and Sharpbeak's first long flight together, but they had Mylra and Stormbeak to shepard them along. Sharpbeak lived up to the name of his sire, Swiftwing, and they made good time. Soon they left the Hinterlands behind, flying down the mountains into the Arathi Highlands. They stayed the night in Refugee Pointe, where Ron was met with curiosity on the part of the other humans there.

"Yes, I'm living with the Wildhammer Dwarves," Ron said. "My parents are...gone. The dwarves took me in, been raising me for two years now."

"Well, the Wildhammer are good people I suppose," one of the Arathi Wardens said. "They've been a great help in our war against the Forsaken Defilers. Where exactly were you from originally lad?"

"A small village called Ottery Saint Catchpole up north," Ron answered quickly. Here, everyone would take that to mean Lordaeron, and would not ask further awkward questions.

"Nice to have a human Gryphon rider though," a female soldier in Stormwind captain's gear observed. She nodded to Sharpbeak, who was nested with Stormbeak and the other camps gryphons on the edge of a cliff that overlooked the camp. "A fine bird that one. But what of you? I saw you lighting a fire earlier with a spell. Didn't know the dwarves held much truck with mages."

"I'm training to be a shaman, actually," Ron said. "Mylra is one as well. We're headed to a conference with the Earthen Ring."

"A human Shaman? Well, I suppose that's better than those bloody bastards helping the forsaken," the Captain grumbled. "They're right terrors on the battlefield, summoning wolves and calling down lightning on you. By the Light, I'd like to see some of that turned on the Horde."

"I thought we were at peace with the Horde?" Ron asked.

"Ha!" The captain turned and spat into the dirt. "Oh, we're at peace alright. Officially at least. But you best watch yourself, boy. The Forsaken are vile, dirty undead. They'd as soon slit your throat as look at you, and the Horde isn't above sending orcs, tauren, trolls, and even those damned treacherous elves to help them."

"I don't much care for the undead," Ron agreed shuddering. "They're unnatural, the spirits recoil at them. Azeroth would be a better place without such creatures."

"Now that's a sentiment I can drink to!" the Warden laughed, coming back with several bowls of hot soup. He gave one to Ron. "Here, boy. Don't let it be said that the dwarves can outdo us in fellowship. Call your companion over, I've some for her as well."

The next day they flew on to Dunwald, home of another Clan of Wildhammer dwarves. Here they recieved a hearty welcome, as Mylra and Stormbeak were well known, having fought with some of the Dunwald's in Outland.

"Aye, we've heard of you laddie," a dark haired dwarven girl named Keely said, handing Ron a tall mug of ale. "The human who wants to be a Wildhammer! Well, let's see if ye can swim like one at least!"

Knowing what was required of him, Ron immediately drained the tankard, setting it down with a thunk and smacking his lips. Suddenly, his eyes crossed, and he put a hand to his chest, his mouth slightly agape. The Dunwalds all eyed Ron, and Keely smirked at him.

Then Ron's eyes uncrossed as he let out an enormous belch, causing Keely to reel back as Ron's foul breath washed over her. The other dwarves all roared with laughter, slapping Ron on the back and affirming that he was "a true man of the Clans." For her part, Keely took it in good stride, fetching Ron another mug of ale.

"Well, perhaps ye can swim with the dwarves after all," she admitted.

There was singing and dancing long into the night. Several dwarves played on fiddles, bagpipes, drums and flutes, and Ron danced with many of the Dunwald lasses. Ron found himself thinking of just how pretty Keely Dunwald was, with her dimpled cheeks and well muscled arms. He ended nearly passed out before he could make a fool of himself though, and Mylra had to haul him off to bed. While Ron was game to try to drink with the best, he was still a young boy and simply couldn't home to hold his ale like a veteran dwarven drinker. At least, not yet.

They ended up spending two days to visit with the Dunwalds and to rest Sharpbeak and Stormbeak from the long flights. Ron was delighted to have a chance to train with Flynn Dunwald, a young dwarven shaman. The two of them visited a sacred Dunwald shrine, where a Reth jumped out of Ron's totem to approach an ancient spirit of fire. The two spirits seemed to get along, with Reth running around the base of the Dunwald spirits blaze, and the other fire spirit giving Reth a drop of sacred oil to burn.

"Ye've got a talent for fire I see," Flynn observed. "That's good. Useful in battle."

"I mostly use it at the forge with da, Douglas Forgelight," Ron said. "I've never actually fought anything more dangerous than a wolf, and those I mostly just send running at the first sign of fire."

"Ye'll get yer chance, don't fret," Flynn said. "Now, how about having a spar with me, eh? That's a nice axe ye've got."

"Thanks. I made it meself," Ron said, unsheathing his axe.

"Just weapons for this," Flynn said, drawing his hammer. He passed his hand over it, padding the weapon with wind. Ron did the same, and then the two saluted.

Flynn soon proved to be the superior fighter, despite the advantage in reach Ron had. However, after the first bought where Flynn quickly knocked Ron off his feet with a solid blow to his chest, he spent more time showing Ron how to feint and parry, as well as enhance his weapons with elemental power.

"I've always favored getting up close and personal," Flynn explained. "Adding a bit o' lightining to yer weapons gives yeh a nice edge."

"Personally I think I prefer Mylra's method," Ron said, rubbing his sore bruises. "Hitting things from afar with fire and lightning."

"Not a bad way to do things," Flynn said affably. "But ye'd best learn how to use yer axe as well. Not everyone is polite enough to kindly wait for yeh while you zap them."

"Too right I suppose," Ron agreed. He lifted his axe, concentrating until it erupted in flames. He shouted, dropping the weapon and shaking his hand, which was singled.

Flynn laughed and slapped Ron on the back. "Not bad bucko! Though yeh might want to wear thicker gloves when yeh do that, eh?"

They left the next morning, flying the the Farstrider Lodge in Loch Modan. There they stayed with the High Elves, those of the quel'dorei still loyal to the Alliance. Ron was familiar with the elves of Quel'Danil lodge, and he and Mylra has brought letters from the northern elves. They were recieved with grace, if not warmth, and they spent the night listening to the songs of an elven Lyrist, singing of the lost city of Quel'thalas.

"More dark work o' the Scourge," Mylra muttered as they made their way to bed. "The Kinslayer has much to answer for."

"Who was the Kinslayer?" Ron asked. "I know he's the Lich King now and he betrayed Muradin Bronzebeard, but how was he really?"

"That's a dark story lad," Mylra said, shaking her head. "And a long one. We've a long ride tomorrow. I'll tell ya later."

The awoke before dawn the next day, parting company with the elves and mounting their gryphons for the long flight through Badlands and the Burning Steppes. They had to be wary, for this was the territory of the Black Dragonflight. Though Deathwing had not been sighted in years and Nefarian and Onyxia had been driven into hiding or slain, the dragons and their allies, the Blackrock Orcs, had not yet been defeated. They kept well away from Blackrock Mountain, but they still spotted the shapes of drakes in flight a long ways off. Fortunately the drakes either didn't notice them or had other prey to hunt, and they managed to arrive in Lakeshire unmolested.

Lakeshire itself was not a true safe haven, however. Despite the return of King Varian Wrynn, the enemies of the humans of Stormwind still pressed in on all sides, and the Blackrock Orcs continued to raid all throughout the province of Redridge. However, the arrival of a legion of troops seemed to be keeping things mostly safe, for now.

"Did you see anything on your flight, riders?" a guard shouted up to Mylra and Ron as they circled in.

"A few orc scouts in the hills and a band of gnolls, but they're a good ways off," Mylra said when they landed. "Our birds are fair winded though; we've flown all the way from Loch Modan. Please, we need to see to them."

"Very well, but Marshal Merris will want a report as soon as possible," the guard said.

Mylra sighed and nodded. "Very well, Ron, see to Stormbeak for me will yeh? I'll go and speak with the Marshal."

Ron nodded and set about removing the saddles and barding and burshing down the gryphons as well as feeding and watering them. He paid the gryphon master for feed and nests for the birds, who was a young woman named Ariena Stormfeather.

"Where did you learn to fly?" Ron asked as she helped him haul over two deer carcasses for the gryphons.

"I was taught in Stormwind by Bralla Cloudwing," Ariena said. "You sound like you've spent sometime with the Wildhammer yourself."

"Aye, I've been livin' with them for the past two years now," Ron said. "They sort of took me in with my folks gone."

"Good fliers, the Wildhammer," Ariena said. "Best in the Alliance, though don't let the night elves hear that. They think their hippogryph riders are the best around. You're a lucky one, to be trained by the experts."

"I know," Ron said quietly, stroking Stormbeak's neck as he ate. "Could have been a lot worse."

"Where are the two of you headed?" Ariena asked as she saw to Stormbeak.

"Outland. We're going to the Earthen Ring Conclave at the Throne of the Elements," Ron explaiend.

Ariena let out a low whistle. "Wow. I've never been to Outland myself, but I've heard stories. Dangerous place that. Though less so now with the demons banished and Illidan slain. You're a shaman then?"

"Training to be one," Ron said. He took out his totem and Reth sprang out to run up and down his arm, though the little fire elemental didn't burn him. "This is Reth."

"Wow. Never seen a friendly one of those before," Ariena said, leaning forward. "I've seen the water elementals mages conjure up of course, but never a wild fire elemental that was friendly."

"Reth reth reth," the little elemental chanted, and Ron put him back inside of his totem.

"He can be a bit of a handful. Best to not let him run wild with all this straw about though."

"Well, you and your companion stop by the Hog and Whistle for a drink on me after dusk," Ariena said. "It's not often I get to talk with real experts about Gryphon care."

Mylra came back a bit later and they both went to the inn, where Ariena joined them not long after. They talked mostly about Gryphon care for a while, Mylra sharing a few of the finer points of the Aerie breed that Stormbeak and Sharpbeak were members of.

They took off early the next morning and flew to Netherguard keep, the last Alliance bastion before the Dark Portal. It was full of activity, mostly troops returning through the Dark Portal and heading to Stormwind after the succesful campaign. A lot of Horde troops were moving along the road to Stonard as well, and while the Alliance soldiers were wary of them, they let them go by without harassment.

"They fought well enough, for barbarians and traitors," one of the soldiers at the inn remarked. "I suppose we owe it to them to let them return home at least. Would have been tricky fighting through Shadowmoon Valley without their help."

"Aye, I was there, with Thane Kuradin," Mylra said. "Mayhaps we'll see peace again at last."

"I wouldn't hold your breath on that," the soldier said, shaking his head. "The King's been receiving envoys from the Argent Crusade. We may be bringing the Kinslayer to justice at last."

Ron caught Mylra's eye, and she sighed and nodded, leading him out to the gryphon roost where they would be staying, as the inn was already overcrowded.

"His name was Arthas Menethil," Mylra said. "He was a human prince, the heir to the Throne of Lordaeron. And he is called Kinslayer because he slew his father in his very throne room, then betrayed his kingdom to the Scourge."

Mylra then began the long, tragic tale of the fall of Arthas Menethil, once a paladin of the Holy Light. How he'd uncovered a demonic plot to destroy his kingdom with an undead plague. How he'd scoured Andorhal of the living and the dead, then set sail for Northrend to end the threat once and for all."

"No one really knows what happened there," Mylra said as they lay in the straw, looking up at the stars. "Some say he took up that cursed blade of his and used it to kill Muradin to seal his dark fate. Others that it was the death of Muradin that drove him to madness. There are other, worse things said. It is known that he defeated Illidan Stormrage and drove him back to Outland, and swore he'd one day return and claim his damned kingdom as his own. It seems he tried to do just that, but Highlord Fordring drove him off, at least for now."

"Bloody hell," Ron whispered. "So that's why he's called the Lich King. Just how many undead does he control?"

"That's another thing no one knows. Maybe thousands. Maybe a million. We can't say for sure. The Forsaken claim to be free of his influence, and word is some of his Death Knights say they've done the same thing. Can't say as I believe that myself. They're foul, wretched creatures, all of them."

With that sobering thought, Ron went to sleep, dreaming of dark princes and foul plagues.

The next morning, they flew to the Dark Portal, a massive structure surrounded by the camps of both Alliance and Horde armies. Most of the camps were deserted or emptying out, but there were still a large number of troops guarding the way to the other world.

Ron took a deep breath, putting his hand on Stormbeaks neck and rubbing it for reassurance. The gryphon let out a squawk or protest, then, together, they stepped through the Portal.


	7. The Lands Beyond II

Stormwind City was a massive, sprawling metropolis built into the side of the mountains, with its back to the sea. As the ship approached the harbor, Harry leaned out on the railing, taking it all in. He could see dozens of vessels, from night elf sloops to dwarven steam frigates all docked along the bay. Their ship was guided into the harbor by a small tugboat, and the smell and clamor of the docks filled the air.

Harry and Impa debarked from the _Bravery_ , their mouths agape as they stared around them. Cranes and dock workers descended on the ship, unloading its cargo and shouting at one another. On the wharf, there was a steady stream of sailors, soldiers, and travelers, many carrying bundles or leading various pack animals, from the familiar elekks to horses, nightsabers, and even some sort of mechanical birds.

"Wow," Impa breathed, looking around. "I never knew there were so many people in the whole wide world."

"It's not as big as London," Harry said. "But it's a lot more impressive, I think."

And, it was full of magic. Mages could be seen conjuring refreshments and passing them out to weary travelers for a few copper, or casting spells to lighten loads of cargo, or even doing tricks with conjured fire and ice.

"Come along, acolytes," Farseer Nobundo said, hobbling down the gangway after them. "We are to meet the Vindicator in the Trade District."

"Yes sir," Harry and Impa chorused. Both of them were to accompany the Farseer to the Conclave of Elements on Draenor, at the behest of the Prophet. "You are yet missing a part of yourself, Harry Potter. On Draenor, I believe you will find much of what you have lost." And so, Harry had got on the ship with Impa and her master, Farseer Nobundo, greatest shaman of the draenei.

They ended up renting a carriage, as the elderly broken Farseer had a hard time walking long distances. Harry sat eagerly at the window with Impa, peering at the marvelous sights. Most of the people they passed were human, like Harry, but there were plenty of dwarves, gnomes, elves, and even a few draenei going about. To Harry's shock, he even spied a delegation of orcs with a tauren warrior in the Canal District.

"What are the Horde doing here?" Harry asked the Farseer.

The old broken shrugged. "I do not know, young one. To talk peace with this new king of the humans, I suppose. Peace. It is a good thing."

"I don't think there can ever be any peace with orcs," Impa growled. "They're still raiding in Ashenvale."

"Perhaps this new king can bring an end to this fighting," Nobundo said. "Remember, the orcs, they were deceived by the Burning Legion, much as our people once were. In that, the only difference between us is our faith in the Light."

Harry and Impa exchanged an awkward glance at this, and flinched when Nobundo chuckled.

"Oh, you think I lack faith, young ones?"

Harry looked at Nobundo's grey skin and faded eyes, his cracked hooves and slouched posture. "Um, no sir."

"I am as I am not because I lacked faith, but because the Light chose me to undergo a test. Without it, I would never have found the Spirits and the Elements, and would not have been able to aide our people as I do," Nobundo said gently. "Do not think I have abandoned the Light, or that it has abandoned me. All things happen for a reason, young ones."

"Yes sir," Harry agreed reluctantly, choosing not to say anything further.

After about an hour of driving, they arrived at the Gilded Rose in the trade district. Harry paid the driver, and he and Impa unloaded their luggage as Nobundo hobbled into the inn. Inside, they found Vindicator Maraad waiting for them.

"Ah, Harry, you have grown!" the big draenei boomed, patting Harry on the shoulder. "And I sense that you have also grown in the Light."

Harry breathed in, letting the song of the Naaru fill him, and raised his hand in a sign of blessing. Nobundo suddenly straightened, letting out a contented sigh. "Ah, thank you, Harry. Your last one was fading, I think."

"A blessing of Might," Maraad observed. "One to strength to warriors in battle."

"It also helps the Farseer walk," Harry said sheepishly. "I know it isn't how the blessing is supposed to be used, but-"

"No, no, it is well," Maraad said, smiling at Harry. "It is good you see that the Light is for more than battle. It is to aid our allies, and help those around us. Come, I will show you to your rooms. Then, I have a guide for you two while the Farseer rests."

After depositing their luggage in the room Maraad had for them, Harry and Impa ran back downstairs to find a human boy a few years younger for them in a white tabard with a black starburst holding a golden hand upon it.

"Hi! I'm Artur Hawkwing, Squire of the Argent Crusade. You can call me Artie though."

"I'm Harry Potter, Vindicator in training. This is Impa of the Exodar, shaman acolyte. Are you our guide?"

"Yep. Vindicator Maraad asked if I could show the two of you about Stormwind. Come on! I've lived in Stormwind for years, I know everything."

Artie led the two visitors through the trade district, stopping at a pie stand to buy some lunch with the money the Vindicator had given them to spend today.

"Thish ish the besht food in Shtormwind," Artie told them through a mouthful of hot meat pie. He swallowed, grinning at Harry and Impa. "What kind of food do they have at the Exodar?"

"We eat a lot of talbuk cheese," Impa said. "I especially like that mixed with lentils and served with cornbread."

"Cool. I'd like to try it someday, but we're getting shipped off to Northrend," Artie said, licking his hands mostly clean.

"Northrend?" Impa asked. "Isn't that where the Argent Dawn is going to fight the undead?"

"Yeah, I was born in Lordaeron. My parents were killed when the Kinslayer attacked Andorhal. I was visiting my Uncle here in Stormwind, thankfully. He joined the Argent Dawn and so did I so we could one day reclaim our lands from the undead. Of course we're the Argent Crusade now. What about you two? Is that why you came to Stormwind?"

"We're going to Draenor, through the Dark Portal," Harry explained. "Impa and the Farseer are going to some conference. Maraad is going as well, and he's taking me as his acolyte. We're going to visit Shattrath city as well to see A'dal and the Aldor."

"Cool. I've never been to Outland, but I hear it's crazy and stuff. Oh hey, come on, I can show you the mage tower in the park. They've got all kinds of crazy portals and stuff there."

It was after sunset before Harry and Impa returned to the Gilded Rose, exhausted by happy after a long day of exploring the massive city.

"Good luck in Northrend!" Harry called to Artie.

"Hey thanks. Have fun in Outland, don't get eaten by demons or anything!"

They departed early the next morning, riding out on elekks with a cadra of Vindicators from Stormwind. The ride through the Elwynn forest was pleasant, though as they rode through Goldshire Harry saw many tents scattered throughout the fields and pastures. The men of Westfall were assembling for war at the call of their king.

"Some say we're going to Northrend, but me, I say we're goin' after that blasted Vanessa Vancleef and her fleet of pirates down south," one old veteran said at the tavern where the part stopped for their noonday meal.

"Nah, not a chance," another said. "We're land fighters, not marines. Nah, we're shipping off to Lordaeron to cleanse it of the Undead once and for all and put pay to those treacherous knife ears."

"That would mean war with the Horde though," a younger soldier said, troubled.

The older man who'd spoken first spat on the floor. "About bloody time for that if you ask me. Those cursed monsters have plagued us for too long."

Harry was troubled by this, and asked Vindicator Maraad what he thought as they rode on that afternoon.

"I would not welcome war with the orcs," Maraad said, shaking his head. "For now, the raids in Ashenvale have mostly settled down, save for a few skirmishes between patrols. This Thrall, the orc we shall see at the conclave of elements, seems a good man. He has rejected the demons of old, and seeks peace. This is good."

"What about the undead?" Harry asked.

"That, I would gladly commit to. The undead are abominations in the eyes of the Light, these Forsaken included. They are vile, treacherous creatures that deserve nothing but destruction. But do not trouble yourself of this, Harry. You are too young get to ride off to war."

"I'm not!" Harry protested. "I'm 13. I'll be fourteen before the end of summer. Though I don't rightly know when my birthday is now."

"That is still young, even as you humans reckon things," Maraad said gently. "Even Impa is too young yet to ride off to war. Alas, however, you may be called to do such. When our very existence is threatened, we have not the luxury of telling evil to spare our young and elderly."

It was a week long trip to the Dark Portal, stopping at various human settlements along the way in Darkshire. They spent one night in between in Duskwind pass, and the howling of the wind troubled Harry's sleep.

"The elements are tainted in this place," Impa whispered, looking out of their tent at the surrounding bare rock. "Dark things were done here."

"It's hard to hear the Song in this place," Harry agreed. He shivered. "Some places are too dark for even the Light to easily illuminate."

They were not the only travelers on the road however, and even if they had been the score of Vindicators accompanying Farseer Nobundo would have been enough to fight off all but the most dangerous foes. They passed mostly Alliance troops returning from Outland, though they saw a few Horde outriders as they passed through the Swamp of Sorrows.

"Lok'tar, friends," an orc outrider greeted them as they arrived at a crossroads. "The Warchief and his party are staying in Stonard. We would be honored if you would join us there."

Maraad frowned, looking to Farseer Nobundo. The old broken seemed to gaze into nothingness for a moment, then nodded. "We would be honored to accept the Warchief's hospitality."

"Excellent. This way. It is slightly out of your way to Nethergarde, but it is much drier than sleeping on this ground." The orc and his wolf led the way, the party of draenei following a ways back.

"Farseer, is this wise?" Maraad asked softly as they made their way along the muddy path. "Spending the night in an encampment of orcs?"

"They do not remember it," Nobundo told him with a heavy sigh. "Orcs lead short lives my friend. Most of these are too young to have been born on draenor. They only know this world, and its woes. Do not bring up the demons of the past unless we must."

"We remember though," Maraad growled. "Many of my brothers died at the hands of his ancestors."

"Were you not the one who was so quick to advocate for peace not long ago?" Nobundo asked. "This is a first step."

"It is one thing to wish for peace with a hydra, another to step into its lair," Maraad argued.

"Peace, Vindicator. Did we not bring all these warriors for our safety? Besides, the spirits wish for us to journey there. We must follow the will of the elements."

Maraad shook his head, drawing his elekk away. "You follow the elements. I follow the Light."

Stonard was situated on a hillock overlooking a river broad enough to be navigable. It's walls were made of sharpened stakes, and though they were frequently replaced, moss grew over them in many places. Outside of the Horde outpost, the Warchief himself waited along with his retainers. Thrall was wearing plate armor and carried the legendary Doomhammer at his side, though he met the party with an open raised hand.

"Welcome, Farseer. I am Thrall, Son of Durotan, Warchief of the Horde."

"Greetings, Son of Durotan," Nobundo wheezed as Impa helped him down from his elekk and handed him his walking staff. The broken hobbled forward, smiling at Thrall. "It does this old one's heart good to once more meet orcs in friendship."

Nobundo then glaced to a young orc with brown skin at Thrall's side. "Ah. You, I know. You must be the son of Grom. I fought your father."

"If you had fought my father, you would not have lived to tell of it, broken," the young orc growled.

The Warchief held up a hand. "Peace, Garrosh. They are here as our guests. And for us to make amends for the sins of our past."

"We should be proud of our past, of the deeds of our fathers," Garrosh protested. "You told me they were heroes."

"Perhaps. But even heroes have flaws," Thrall said. "Come, we have a prepared a feast in your honor."

The feast was an incredibly awkward affair. Thrall and Nobundo seemed to be the only ones enjoying themselves, talking of Draenor and toasting one another. The Vindicators and the Horde warriors were lined up across from one another at the table, and few ate, instead staring across at their counterparts. Garrosh leered at Maraad, who sat in stoic silence. Harry mimicked his mentor's demeanor, while Impa shifted restlessly next to him.

At last, a tauren warrior broke the silence. "I confess, the Light has always intrigued me. Your reverence of the Light mirrors our own veneration of An'she, the sun. Do you revere the sun of Draenor?"

"No," the Vindicator across from the tauren said curtly. "We follow the path of the Light, as shown to us by the Prophet and the Naaru."

"Ah, yes, the naaru. I have heard of these creatures. What can you tell me of them?" the tauren asked.

"They're beautiful," Harry blurted.

The eyes of the Horde warriors turned to him, and Harry blushed.

"Hmm? Ah, the young human speaks. Tell me, what do you mean by beauty? To a tauren, beauty can mean many things, though most of us find the most beauty in the works of the Earthmother."

"They're just so...peaceful," Harry said, a hint of wistfulness entering his voice. He could still hear the Song of the Naaru when he focused, but it was a distant echo instead of the rhapsodic melody one experienced while in their presence. "They have a song you can hear, if you listen, that opens your mind to the joys of life. Love, peace, kindness, all the good qualities in the world."

Garrosh snorted, but did not break his glare with Maraad. "You sound like a weak, mewling pup. Love. Kindness. Peace. What use has a warrior of such things?"

"You are yet young, Hellscream," the tauren said, a gentle rebuke in his tone. "There is much to be gained by peace, and the love of a mate and ones children is perhaps the greatest beauty this world has to offer. I thank you, young human. I shall have to seek out one of the naaru during my time on Draenor."

"All who would walk the path of the Naaru are as brothers to us," Maraad said, unexpectedly breaking his staring contest with Garrosh to smile at the tauren. "I would welcome any such, be they of any race, or any allegiance."

"More fool you," Garrosh snarled, but Maraad's smile seemed to signal the other Vindicators that it was alright to relax, at least a little. They began to eat, though in small quantities, and talked quietly amongst themselves.

Later that night, while Harry and Impa were staying in the stable loft with the elekks, Impa poked Harry in the stomach, rousting him from his drouse.

"Wazzat?" Harry mumbled.

"Hey, did you really mean all that?" Impa asked quietly. "About thinking the Song of the Naaru is the most beautiful thing in the world. Can you really hear it that well?"

"Sometimes, I think," Harry mumbled, only half awake. "Other things beautiful too."

"Hmm. I can hear the Song of course, but only-"

"You kinda pretty too," Harry said, then rolled over and went back to bed, much to Impa's shock and annoyance.

The next day the party of the Warchief and the party of the Farseer rode together, out of the swamp, past Nethergarde Keep, and to the Dark Portal. Other groups were making their way in and out of the portal, but a space was made for the party of the Warchief and the Farseer. They entered, and Harry blinked as he beheld Draenor, known as Outland, for the first time.

The visage Harry saw when he blinked away the glare of the twisting nether was that of a wartorn hellscape. The ground was cracked and broken, and the only growing things that could be seen anywhere were thorny brambles. There was a blighted, ruined area before the Dark Portal where demons had been slain in countless numbers, though it was clear for now and guarded by both Alliance and Horde warriors. Harry could see twisted wildlife, from birds with two heads flying overhead to boars with spikes on their backs being butchered for the supper of the troops.

"This is where you're from?" Harry asked Impa, shocked. "This place looks terrible."

"It wasn't always like this, or so I've been told," Impa said sadly. "Hellfire Peninsula was the focus of demonic invasion and the Shattering. It's perhaps the most awful place here, though the Netherstorm isn't much better."

At the Portal, the two parties split, the Horde traveling to Thrallmar, and the Draenei to Honor Hold. Though it had been nearly dusk on the other side of the portal after a long days ride, here there was neither day, nor night. The light came from the glare of the still swirling energies that had torn Draenor asunder. They changed out some of the mounts (many of the Vindicar had mystical elekks summoned by the Light that did not tire) and proceeded on to Honor Hold.

Before they started upon the Path of Glory, they all dismounted, and Vindicator Maraad let a short service.

"This path before us is built with the bones of our brothers and sisters," Maraad said. "They were slain by the orcs and their demon masters to sully this road with their blood, and open the path to Azeroth. Though we mourn them, do not forget this: The Light has triumphed. The demon masters of the Horde are defeated, and we now walk this road as free Draenei. We shall not ride for the first mile, instead, walk in silence reverent, remembering the fallen who paid the ultimate price to defeat the Burning Legion."

Harry knelt and prayed with the others, asking the Light to gather its own unto it and to give peace to the souls of the slain. He walked along with the others quietly, until they reached a mark, a crystal shard of pure yellow that glowed with the Light. They made small offerings there, Harry casting a blessing upon the shard, while Impa lay down some of her travel rations and burned them as an offering. Then they mounted and rode on, their mood somber and contemplative.

Upon arriving at Honor Hold, Harry nearly collapsed from exhaustion. He'd been using the Light to strengthen himself, but his spiritual reserves were nearly drained by the evil presence of the tainted land and near constant use. He dragged himself onto the cot in the barracks given over to the Vindicator's use, and collapsed into a deep sleep.

Upon waking, Harry found Impa waiting for him outside. She put her arm in his, to Harry surprise, and grinned wickedly at him. "Come, young Vindicator. I shall show you the charms of my homeworld."

"This place has charms?" Harry asked sceptically.

Impa winked at him. "Mostly me. But also breakfast. Come on, I'll buy us something hot at the inn. I've seen the gruel they're serving in the barracks and it is not very appetising."

"Thanks," Harry said, putting his stomach. "I'm half starved. The last time I ate was breakfast in Stonard, and well, I didn't have much of an appetite there."

"Can't say I blame you," Impa said as they walked arm in arm towards the inn at the other side of the encampment. "While I respect the Farseer, I sympathise more with Maraad's sentiments. The orcs are not our friends."

"That Garrosh certainly isn't," Harry agreed. "Though Thrall himself didn't seem so bad."

"Maybe. But Garrosh is a lot more like the typical orc than Thrall is. Probably because he was raised by a half civilized race."

"What, you mean humans?" Harry asked, chuckling. "Come on, we're not that bad."

"I could take a liking to a few of you," Impa admitted. "Though you can be rather infuriating at times."

Harry didn't know what to make of that last comment, but then they were at the inn, and they separated. Harry walked up to the counter, motioning to the innkeeper.

"Two plates of something hot and edible," he called to the innkeeper in a loud voice.

"Oi, mate, bloody well keep it down," one of the patrons at the bar growled, glaring at Harry. "Some of us were up a bit late last night."

"Oh, sorry mate," Harry said absently. He looked at the red headed boy in flying leathers and nodded. "Light be with you."

To Harry's shock, the other boy stood bolt upright, his face going even paler than it had been before. "Bugger Ragnaros' behind with a bloody axe. Harry Potter?"

"Yes?" Harry said, turning back to the boy confused. Then his eyes widened. "Ron? Ron is that you?"

"Harry!" Ron roared, leaping onto Harry and tackling him to the floor with a bone crushing hug. "Bloody hell it is you! What in the name of all the ancestors are you doing here mate?"

"Hey, you lot, break it up!" the innkeeper barked, coming around the bar, and rolling up his sleeves. "It's too damned early to start a barfight! Bloody flyboys…"

"No, no, it's alright!" Harry said, laughing and crying at the same time as he stood, clutching Ron with one arm and pounding him on the back with the other. "This bloke here's me best mate!"

"Harry?" Impa asked, confused. She'd conjured up a ball of lightning in her fist, and looked ready to use it.

"OI, YOU, NANCY BOY! YOU GET YOUR BLOODY HANDS OFF ME YOUNGER BROTHER!"

Harry and Ron spun about to see a very angry looking dwarf with her own ball of lightning in her fist charging towards them.

"Mylra, Mylra it's fine! This is Harry Storming Potter! He's from England, like me!"

It took quite a while, but after the innkeeper had brought everyone breakfast (and, on Ron and Mylra's instistance, several tankards of beer) in Ron and Mylra's room, everything came out.

"So you've been here the whole time too?" Ron asked Harry, reaching for the pitcher of beer the innkeeper had left and pouring out his third of the morning.

"Yes, more than two years now, at least as far as I can tell," Harry agreed. "I've been at the Exodar for most of that, on Azuremyst Isle."

"Yeah, well, I spent most of my time at the aerie. I tried looking for yeh mate, honest to the peak I did, but we could find neither hide nor hair o' yeh," Ron said, shaking his head then downing his beer.

Mylra and Impa, for their part, had quickly gotten over their initial hostility and were discussing the differences between the elementals found on Azuremyst and those of the peaks.

"Ah, our water spirits are still restless from all the debris that were dumped into the veiled sea, but the storm spirits are rather sedate," Impa was saying.

"Much the opposite in the peaks," Myrla observed. "Our storm spirits are right feisty, but the water's right easy to get to do what yeh want if you don't mind beatin' it a bit. Mostly on account o' it being locked up in the ice fer so much o' the year. But lass, yeh need to eat up! You and Harry here have hardly touched yer grub and drank nary a drop."

"We've had half a beer each!" Impa protested. "And this isn't even watered down."

Ron looked up, a bit of froth on his lip. "Who the hell drinks watered down beer?"

"We don't drink alcohol often at all," Harry admitted. "Only a bit of wine at feast time. Drunkenness goes against the tenants of the Light."

Mylra and Ron both looked at Harry aghast. "Well what the bloody hell do you drink then?" Ron demanded.

"Water," Impa said, her tone indicating she didn't quite believe she had to say that.

"Yeh poor bastards," Mylra said, shaking her head. "No wonder you paladins and space goats are a bunch o' ninnies. Yeh ain't got any fire in yer blood."

"Oh hell, my best mates' turned into drunkard and a glutton," Harry said, shaking his head. "That's it. Impa, we have to rescue him from the dwarves and force him to go sober. It's his only chance for salvation."

The group laughed, but they soon made their way back to the barracks and found the Farseer and Vindicator Maraad.

The Farseer, for his part, took all this in stride. "It is as the vision of the Prophet foresaw, and as the spirits spoke to me before setting out upon this journey. You have been reunited with one of your companions from this other place you told us of, Harry."

"Another human from this unknown world?" Maraad asked, shocked. "You must be one of the others Harry spoke of all those years ago. We thought you lost."

"Maybe that means Hermione is alive as well," Harry said hopefully. "I wonder if we'll find here here in Outland as well?"

"I don't know about that, mate. Who knows? Maybe she got killed by Snape, or even by some of the dangers here. Azeroth is no a safe place," Ron said darkly.

The next day, Mylra and Ron rode along with the party on their Gryphons. They often flew ahead or behind to keep watch, but would land and ride along frequently. Ron and Harry caught up on the last two years together, while Mylra and Impa got along well. Impa was excited to meet another shaman, and Mylra was more than willing to listen to the wisdom of the Farseer as well, addressing him respectfully as Elder.

They rode for hours, though the light never changed. The landscape around them varied little, all choking dust and vicious beasts. Even the fel boars left their party alone though, and though Mylra and Ron reported the presence of Fel Orcs, the few stragglers had no desire to tackle with an armed collum of cavalry with air support. At last they reached the Temple of Telhamat, which was hidden up in a mountain pass, behind several powerful illusions. The old fortified monastery had survived the Horde and the demons, and here the grateful travelers rested.

Impa showed the group the ancient carvings depicting the coming of the draenei to Draenor from their lost homeworld of Argus. "Our people have long wandered the stars. Draenor was not the first home we lost to the Legion," Impa told them, pointing to a carving that showed monstrous eradar attacking as the draenei fled from another world.

"It shall be the last," Harry swore. "We'll fight together for Azeroth."

Impa blushed and smiled at Harry, then continued on the tour. Ron and Mylra were silent and contemplative, this being the first time they had heard the tragic history of the draenei.

"Yer people have had a rough go of it lass," Mylra said once they had visited the last of the carvings. "Betrayed by yer own to Sargeras himself, then fleein' across the stars for who knows how long? That's harsh. Then yeh were almost wiped out by the orcs once more. I can imagine that meself, the Wildhammer have been warrin' with trolls and now orcs fer generations. But to lose yer home...that would be like losin' the Aerie."

"The elements of this place are sick, weary," Ron said, stooping to take up a handful of dust and rocks. He rubbed them through his fingers, shaking his head. "What strength this earth has is given over to rage now. How can you hope to live in such a place?"

"Some of us will cling to our lands here," Impa said. "But most of us have traveled to Azeroth in search of a new home. The anchorites and vindicators that remain here are more to keep watch for the return of the Legion than anything else."

"A grim duty, but one that must be done. Come. It is late. Let us eat and rest. I look forward to seeing your old home of Telredor in the morning," Harry told Impa.

She laughed and shook her head. "I hope it won't be too much of a disappointment to all of you. Telredor was always a hideout, not a home. But still, it will be good to look upon it once more."

 _Authors Note:_

 _I had to split this chapter in three as it was edging in on 20000 words, but the next one will be up soon. But not Blizzard soon, like in two or three days. And then we get to the fightin'._


	8. Scourge of Stormwind I

Hermione sat beside the naga, who was strapped to the table, and smiled. "As you know, the concept of the suction pump is centuries old. And really, that's all this is. Though instead of water, we're sucking something else."

"Ssssilence, foolisssh human!" the naga sea witch hissed, struggling in her bonds. "I ssshhhall dessstroy you all oncce I am free of this infernal contraption!"

"Oh I don't think that's at all likely. Lady Vashj is dead, and most of your people are gone. Really, we're quite fortunate that we managed to capture you at all. Now, just let me attach this and...oh really, struggling? Stop it, or I shall be forced to hex you."

"Never I shall! AAAAAAHHHH!" the naga froze in terror as Hermione casually cast a fear spell on it, allowing her to attach the suction helmet upon her head.

"Ah, there we go. Ready, K Lee!" Hermione called.

Across the room, K Lee had finished injecting the fel orc with marshlighter venom, which had paralyzed him and sent him into a stupor. She attached her own helmet to the fel orc, then grinned and gave Hermione a thumbs up. "Ready here! Inject the subject!"

"Oh ssssweet Ashara, what have you done? Wait, what'sss that? Oh godssss, no don't!" the naga trailed off into incoherent gurgling as Hermione shoved the needle into her arm and injected the venom.

"Well, that shouldn't be a lethal dose, at least according to my calculations," Hermione said, patting jaw of the naga, who was now foaming at the mouth. "Commence brain wave extraction!" she cackled.

Wilfred laughed maniacally as he slammed home the levers. "Oh, what I wouldn't give for a good dramatic thunderstorm right now! It's always so much better to be doing SCIENCE! while you have a good thunder boomer going.

"You are all insane," Pizyap grumbled from the corner. He then shoved a handful of popcorn in his mouth. "But save me if this isn't a ripping good show."

The water powered suction pump began to turn, faster and faster, glowing with arcane and fel power. There was a loud wailing noise, as the souls of the fel orc and naga were sucked out and into the bell jars above their heads. Hermione immediately ran over, grasping ahold of the jar containing the naga soul.

"Yes! Yes I can feel the soul within. Ohhh, it just seems so tasty. Are you really certain I can't eat just one of them, K Lee?"

"Not until after the experiment!" K Lee lectured. "No eating the souls of the damned until we're through. Put on your helmet!" K Lee followed her own advice, placing an odd looking helmet that had two antenne and glowed with fel power.

Sighing, Hermione put on her own Thought Outsourcer. She turned to the naga, concentrating. She suddenly felt light headed, and when her thoughts cleared Hermione found herself strapped to the table.

"Yesssss! K Lee, K Lee, it worked! I can control the naga now!" she waved her four arms frantically, then paused and studied them. "Oh, thissss issss odd. I've never had four armsss before."

"Well, I've never been this tall before," K Lee said, looking around. "This is an odd experience."

"Oh excellent, excellent!" Wilfred said, hopping up and down for joy. "This is a complete success!"

"And three, two, one," Pizyap said, counting down.

Just as he said one, Hermione and K Lee both shrieked in anguish, as their control helmets began smoking. There was a loud bang, and they both slumped over as their hair caught on fire. The Naga and the fel orc, on the other hand, were in a rather worse situation. Both their heads exploded rather messily.

With a heavy sigh, Pizyap set down his bag of popcorn and picked up a fire extinguisher, hopping over and spraying down both Hermione and K Lee with a blast of elemental water and ice slurry.

Hermione came too with a gasp when the water washed over her, shivering and moaning in pain. "Ooooh. Ugh. I thought it had really worked that time."

"It did," moaned K Lee. "But only for a few seconds. We'll just have to modify the device so that it lasts longer. Perhaps more imp blood."

"Yeah I don't think that's the problem," Pizyap said quickly. "It's um, the flux capacitor. Yeah."

"Pizyap you're a genius!" Hermione said, sitting up and grabbing the imp by the arm. "Of course! The harmonic resonance between the fel and arcane energies is uncontrolled! Of course we need a flux capacitor!"

Blinking in confusion, Pizyap frowned. "That's a real thing?"

"Not yet," K Lee said, standing on shaky legs. "But with the right amount of work, it can be!"

"Hmm," Hermione said, examining the souls still trapped in the bell jars. "I don't suppose we need these anymore, do we?"

K Lee made a face. "Ugh. Warlocks. No, no, we don't need them, dispose of the extraneous souls as you see fit."

Eagerly, Hermione extended a hand towards the bell jar with the naja's soul and began to channel fel energy. A dark purple torrent lept from the bell jar into Hermione's hand as she sucked away the soul, a dark crystal forming in her hand as the soul screeched in torment. After a brief moment, Hermione let out a contented sigh, quivering with ecstasy. She turned guiltily to Wilfred, who was flipping the levers back down. "Do you want one?"

"No no my dear, I drained a few marshlighter souls this morning. Besides, fel orc souls always give me heartburn. Help yourself."

Grinning maniacally, Hermione eagerly drained the fel orc soul, shuddering with the rush of pleasure it brought. "Oh, yes! That's wonderful…." She closed her eyes, licking her lips as the soul crystal dropped into her palm.

"Yessh. And people call me evil," Pizyap complained as he mopped up the blood and gore.

Hermione stuffed the two soul crystals into her pouch, frowning at the imp. "Who's calling you evil?"

Pizyap gave Hermione an incredulous stare. "I am literally a demon born of the fel. EVERYONE calls me evil. Hell, everyone with any sense calls YOU evil."

"I prefer the term morally flexible," Hermione sniffed.

"Just accept it sweetheart. Nothin' wrong with enjoying feasting upon the blood of the innocent every now and then."

"I did no such thing! The naga and the fel orcs are both vile, wicked creatures! I did the world a favor really."

"Pot, meet kettle. You're both black and evil as a dreadlord's pajamas."

Hermione blinked. "Dreadlords wear pajamas?"

Pizyap shrugged. "If they do, you can bet they're evil."

Once the lab was tidied up, Hermione and Pizyap went down on the elevator to the swampy marsh below. She waved to the broken guards, who eyed her suspiciously.

"Good morning!" she called. "Or possibly evening. I can never tell really."

"It is another day," one guard said stoically.

"True, true. Well, I'm off to gather more ore! Any special requests for what I bring back?"

"Try to bring back mana ray. Meat stores will be needing topping off," the other guard said.

"Oh, are we expecting someone?" Hermione asked.

"Visitors from other world. Old friends, come to visit on the way to Nagrand. Will be needing much meat to feed them."

"Alright, we'll try to find something, though it will probably just be another sporebat."

Hermione raised her hands, using one of the soul shards she had to call forth her demonic mount. "Come forth, Snuggles!"

"I still cannot believe you named your dreadsteed that," Pizyap complained as with a snarl of rage, Snuggles the Felstead appeared. Pizyap hopped up on Hermione's shoulder as she mounted.

"I can name him whatever I like," Hermione sniffed. "And he is quite warm and cuddly. Stop that, Snuggles! No snapping at me, I'm the mistress, or there will be no offal for you."

"Yeah. Cuddly. Like a flesh eating maggot," Pizyap grumbled.

They set off through the swamp, heading up into the hills to search for mineral nodes to mine from. Most of the swamps denizens knew well enough to stay away from the young warlock by now, but one foolish marshlighter tried to swoop down and sting Hermione. In response, she hexed with with several curses while Pizyap shot fireballs at the creature. With a squeal, the marshlighter fell to the ground, twitching. Hermione eagerly drained the creatures soul, then harvested the venom and stuffed it in her backpack.

They spent most of the day mining, with Pizyap smelting the ore down into ingots for them to carry back to Telredor. The found some fel iron and even a blood garnet, along with a bit of adamantium.

"Hmm, I would like to find some khorium, but that vein seems played out," Hermione lamented.

"Suck it up toots, you don't even have to haul this stuff around," Pizyap growled, puffing as he lugged around they heavy mining bag.

"Oh hush, or I'll banish you back into the nether," Hermione told him.

Pizyap glared at her, but didn't say anything. He was rather coming to enjoy living with these deranged engineers, despite their infrequent need to drain his blood.

With evening coming on they made their way back to the town. Hermione did manage to stalk and slay a nether ray, carving the corpse up expertly with her long knife and stuffing the smelly steaks into her bag.

"Pity that one died before I could get its soul," she said wistfully.

"Yeah, they can get a bit addicting," Pizyap said casually. "Just make sure you don't start slaughtering humanoids where you can get caught. Happened to my last master. They strung him up good. It would have been more satisfying to watch if they hadn't also dismembered me."

"I would never do such a thing!" Hermione protested. "Well, at least not proper races. Orcs and naga and such are fair game."

"You just keep telling yourself that if it helps you sleep at night," the imp said, patting his mistresses hand.

When they arrived back at Telredor Hermione found a number of elekks tied up in the stable. "Those must be the visitors," she observed. "I wonder if any of them would consent to experimentation with the Thought Outsourcer. It's getting so hard to find subjects these days…"

Up top, Hermione found a feast underway, a crowd of unbroken draenei out on long tables in the common area, feasting along with the locals. She even spied K Lee and Wilfred at the end, talking with a dwarf and a couple of humans. Headless of the current state of her robes, Hermione walked over to sit with them after handing the meat off to the innkeeper for her usual fee.

"Well I couldn't find any Khorium," Hermione told K Lee as she sat down. "But I did find a blood garnet so maybe we can trade that for some."

"Nah, those aren't worth peanuts these days," K Lee said. "Everyone's after the better gems coming out of the Black Temple mines."

"Wait, Hermione?" one of the humans, a dark haired boy in Vindicator garb asked in astonishment.

"Oh, hello Harry. Whatever happened to your glasses?" Hermione said, waving as she took some mushrooms and talbuk steak.

"What happened to- Hermione, it's me! I thought you were dead!" Harry exclaimed, running around the table to hug Hermione, which caused the young draenei woman he'd been sitting by to frown.

"Sweet thunder, Hermione is it really you?" the other human said, this one Hermione recognized as Ron. He too embraced Hermione, which caused her to roll her eyes.

"Yes, yes, it's lovely to see the two of you again too. Now I really need to talk to K Lee about how we're going to get enough Khorium to build a flux capacitor."

Ron and Harry let go of Hermione, staring at her in shock. "But...but we've been stranded here for ages. We thought you were dead! What did you think was going on?"

"Obviously we're in some sort of alternate dimension," Hermione said, taking a bit of talbuk steak and chewing quickly. "I thought that much was obvious."

"Yes, we quickly decided that had to be the case," Wilfred put in. "Once it was obvious that no demons had ever heard of this England or Earth of yours. Unless it's some world the Burning Legion has never visited which is highly unlikely."

"Yes, which is why we need that khorium to build the flux capacitor. Once we get the Thought Outsourcer working we can finally start on that dimensional portal design we've been working on," Hermione agreed. "Then I suppose I could go home, though I don't know that I really want to."

"You...you don't want to go home?" Ron asked, clearly shocked by the idea.

"Hey toots," Pizyap interrupted, hopping up on the table by Hermione. "Mind passing me some of that steak? I'm getting downright ethereal here I'm so hungry."

"DEMON!" Harry roared, grabbing a small warhammer he'd set down by the table and slamming it down where Pizyap had been standing. For his part, the imp let out a cry of panic and lept away.

"PALADIN! GET IT AWAY FROM ME!" Pizyap shrieked, running underneath the table

"Come out foul creature, and face justice!" Harry growled. "Your evil will not be tolerated here!"

"My evil? This is discrimination! You were down right friendly with my mistress there just a second ago! She's the one that makes me do all that you know! Sweet fel, I even have to restrain her more evil impulses sometimes! Me, an imp, acting like a conscious? You should give me a damned medal instead of hurling insults around Mr. Smite-First-Ask-Questions-Never."

"Hermione, this foul imp is slandering your good name!" Harry said as Ron drew and axe and prodded under the table with it while the dwarf and the draenei both conjured up bolts of lighting.

"Stop!" Hermione cried. "I'm down to my last soul! If you banish him I won't have any left to power my reading lamp!"

The four others paused, staring at Hermione.

"You...power a reading lamp with souls?" Ron asked, shocked.

"Well naturally. It's a perfectly clean and renewable resource. Personally I find marshlighter souls work the best but you can use even toad souls in a pinch," Hermione explained.

Ron turned green, and Harry drew back in shock. "Hermione, you're consorting with DEMONS?!"

"Not consorting, commanding," Hermione clarified. "I've summoned and bound this imp to me."

"But he's evil," Harry protested.

"I prefer the term 'morally flexible,'" Pizyap called from under the table. "And I ain't any eviler than your unholy little girlfriend there bucko."

"She is your girlfriend?" the draenei woman said, a look of revulsion on her face.

"No," Harry said firmly. "Just a friend from back on Earth." He sighed and sheathed his hammer. "Fine. I've known that certain races of the Alliance harness demons. I've just never seen a warlock before. And I never thought you'd become one, Hermione."

"That's because Warlocks are shifty, no good clanless dogs who crave power more than kinship," Ron growled.

"Well I don't know about being a dog or craving power, but I certainly don't have a clan," Hermione said, sipping at a cup of wine Wilfred had helpfully poured for her. "Mostly I crave knowledge, excitement, and explosions. Like any good gnomish engineer."

"Wilfred and I adopted her as our apprentice!" K Lee said happily. "She's practically a gnome, so curious and adventurous!"

"Why don't we all sit down and be sensible about this? After all, poor Pizyap does need to eat, and I am quite hungry," Hermione said.

They all sat together, though Ron kept giving Hermione odd looks.

"Oh, fine, Ronald, what is it?" Hermione demanded after finishing her first plate of Talbuk shortribs.

"It's just...you don't want to go home? At all? I mean, I get why Harry wouldn't. His family is dead. His relatives are rotten. But you have a family! Surely you want to see them again?"

"I wouldn't mind seeing my parents, but if it means giving up on my research the answer is most assuredly no," Hermione stated. "I had never had a friend before I met you and Harry, Ron. I was an outcast. My only friends were in books. I always dreamed of going to Earthsea, or Narnia, or Middle Earth. When my Hogwarts letter came I lept at the chance to go into something out of the stories. But this is even better! There is so much more to learn and to do! I confess if you had asked me in the first six months I was here I would have gladly left for Earth, but not now."

"You, Harry?" Ron asked, turning to him.

Harry shifted uncomfortably, then nodded. "I'd stay. I agree with the Prophet that we are here for a reason. Even without that though, I have a place here. I belong with the draenei. Impa and the others have always been welcoming to me. I'm one of them. And there's no one out to kill me."

"I wouldn't be so sure about that," Impa said.

The others turned to look at her, and she shrugged. "The Burning Legion is still out there, and there are other threats. Perhaps there is no one specifically after Harry in particular, but there are many others would would be glad to slay a human or servant of the Holy Light."

"The lass has a point. Azeroth is no a safe place," Mylra put in. "Ye've got to be smart, and strong, and more than willing to fight."

"I am, don't worry about that," Harry vowed. "I meant more that I'm not seen as some chosen one or great hero here. I'm just another ordinary paladin."

"You always were mad," Ron said shaking his head. He blushed and looked to Mylra. "I mean no offense, you understand. You and ma and da are all great. But...I miss my parents, and my brothers and sister. Sometimes, I wonder what they're up to."

/\/\/\\\/\\\/\\\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\\\/\/\/\

Ginny dodged out of the way of the Forsaken Death Guard's thrust, using her momentum to slash deeply into his leg. The undead snarled and turned toward her, only to find her pistol in his face. She fired, splattering brittle bone and putrid brains all over the decking. She slipped into the shadows behind some crates, vanishing as the attention of others slipped from her in the melee on the deck of the Horde trading vessel. She then slunk forward, all but invisible, reloading her pistol.

Seeing Vanessa battling the Forsaken Captain, Ginny snuck up behind the combatants and unceremoniously planted her dagger in the undead's spine. That gave Vanessa an opening to cut her head clean off.

"Thanks," Vanessa said, but the two women didn't take time to chat, and Ginny fired her pistol into another of the remaining forsaken's back. Vanessa for her part threw a dagger into another, and they split apart again to aide their crew.

Minutes later, the Forsaken guards were slain, and once it had been made certain they were dead for real this time, the business of tossing the bodies of the slain over the side began.

"We lost Wilks, Angerbeard, and Garden," Master Ripsnarl reported, still in his cursed worgen battle form. He was one of the unfortunates who had been cursed by the Scythe of Elune in Darkshire. Unlike many who became feral monsters, Ripsnarl maintained a large measure of control, though by the dried blood on his muzzle and claws, he had been letting himself go during the fight.

"Not bad," Vanessa said, looking around the deck of the merchant ship. "What's in the hold?"

"Nasty stuff. Plague barrels and chemicals. I had Glubtok take a look. He says we're best off burning this ship and sailing far away."

"Nothing valuable at all?" Vanessa demanded.

Ripsnarl shrugged. "There was a small paychest and timbers from Ashenvale. Aside from that, nothing. This one's a dud, captain."

"Blast and damnation," Vanessa spat, glaring around the ship. "At this rate we'll never be free of Revilgaz's clutches."

"It's not all bad," Ginny said. "We did take the ship. If we dump the plague, she's salvageable. We could sell her as a prize."

"I can't recommend that, ma'am," Ripsnarl said, shaking his head. "Plague is nasty stuff. One infection could wipe out our whole crew. We're abandoning the ship as fast as we can. You'll never find enough men to willingly crew her back to port, even if we took her to Menethil."

"These waters have proven poor for us," Vanessa sighed. "I had thought to prey upon Horde shipping as the Alliance navy was getting a bit too hot for us. We'd best turn about and head for our home waters."

They did burn the ship, Glubtok launching a few fiery missiles at the floundering vessel once they were well upwind of it. Ginny watched the ship burn moodily, resenting the loss of the prize.

"Chin up, First Mate," Vanessa ordered, coming to stand beside Ginny. "We'll get our chance yet."

"We've made nothing this entire trip though! At this rate we'll just end up further in Revilgaz's debt for outfitting us!" Ginny snapped. "And then we'll never be free!"

"Oh, it isn't so bad," Vanessa said, patting Ginny on the back affectionately. "We're still doing quite well for ourselves you know. We've almost paid off the debt, and more men rally to our banner every day. Soon, Stormwind will fear the name of the Brotherhood once more."

"Hmph," Ginny grunted. She spat over the side of the ship. "Almost makes me wish one of the crew would be idiot enough to question my authority again."

Vanessa laughed. "That's not likely to happen after what you did to the last one, dearie."

"He bloody well deserved it," Ginny growled. "The pig thought he could get into my knickers and usurp me as First Mate."

"Poor Harris. Ah well. You did the world a service. He would have just polluted the genepool as a man, but now he serves us all as a eunuch."

A smile twitched on Ginny's lips. "He did fetch a fair price. Paid for this shiney new pistol of mine."

"That's the spirit. Join me in my cabin for a planning session and dinner?"

"Of course, Captain Vancleef."

The crew raised knuckles to their foreheads as Ginny and Vanessa passed them on the way to the captain's cabin. Normally pirate crews were not much for discipline or respect, but the crew of the _Defiant_ was an odd one. While some of the men were pirates and sailors first, most were members of the Defias Brotherhood before all else. It wasn't riches or glory that had brought them to the high seas, but the dream of a better world through bloody revolution.

Inside of Vanessa's cabin, the pair looked over the charts.

"The shipping lanes are here," Vanessa said, tracing a line marked on the charts. "By our last reckoning we're here. With our current supplies we can hang about in the region for a week yet. I had hoped to scavenge something from our prey but no sane living being would touch whatever it is the undead subsist upon."

"Not to mention it looks vile," Ginny agreed. "What about striking for Kalimdor? We could resupply in Kul Tiras. They've no love of Stormwind and will take our coin."

"No, they'd just see us as competition and seize the ship and hang us all," Vanessa disagreed. "We'll simply head back to Booty Bay. It's a good enough port."

"I suppose. I just don't like the goblins," Ginny allowed.

"I do hope yours truly is excluded from that statement," Helix said, entering without knocking. "Ma'am and ma'am, I got something youse should both take a look at. It's from that last ship."

"What is it, Helix?" Vanessa demanded, impatient.

"Nothin' good, that's for certain." Helix held up two vials. "This is the plague sample we collected. And let me tell you, something is dead wrong with it."

"That's the point, Helix. It's a magical undead plague," Vanessa said impatiently.

Helix shook his head. "You misunderstand. Glubtok is smart, for an ogre, but he knows dick about plague. You, however, captain, know a great deal about poisons. Here. Tell me, does this match up with what you've seen of the Plague before?"

Vanessa frowned, taking the vial Helix offered and holding it up. She muttered a short spell, then frowned. "It's still plague, but...something is off. This is...this isn't Forsaken Plague. This is the original Scourge strain."

"No. And I took a look at those bodies. Those were NOT Forsaken. Here." Helix handed over a thick, leather volume.

Vanessa opened it up, paging through it and frowning. "I don't understand. It's blank."

"Exactly. That's supposed to be the captain's log. Nothin' in the whole thing. That ship was headed for Quel'thalas, right? So why was it carrying plague? The Blood Elves and the Forsaken are buddy buddy now, right? Something is wrong, captain. Very wrong."

Vanessa frowned at Helix, rubbing her chin in thought. "Could the Forsaken be betraying the Horde? It would fit what I know of Sylvanas. It was ever only an alliance of convenience for her."

"I sincerely doubt that. Tell me, did you hear a single battle cry out of those Death Guards? Even one 'For the Dark Lady' or 'For the Forsaken' during that entire fight?"

Ginny shook her head. "No, they shouted a bit about killing us, but mostly they were grim and silent. I don't understand, why is that a problem? They're Forsaken. They're hardly normal by any measure."

"No…." Vanessa shook her head slowly. "No. The Forsaken have a cult-like devotion to their queen. She's practically a religious figure to them. They're fanatical about it, and not shy in battle about shouting her name."

"They had the armor, and the weapons, and even the ship, but let me ask you somethin' captain. What, exactly, is the difference between a Forsaken and a member of the Scourge?" Helix demanded.

"Well obviously that one is controlled by the Lich King and the others nominally have free will," Vanessa said. "But I see where you are going with it. It would be like trying to tell the difference between a Tanaris Goblin and a Booty Bay one. Unless you yourself are a goblin, the differences are very hard to spot."

"I'll be honest with ya on that one: if the Tanaris Goblin is a good actor, he'd fool a hell of a lot of other goblins," Helix said. "But Captain, I think that boat was full of plague headed for the Blood Elves, and it was the Scourge that sent it. We need to get the hell out of these waters. If the Scourge is on the move again, we need to be well out of their way."

"Agreed. Tell the helm to set course for Booty Bay at once, Helix," Vanessa ordered. "No amount of loot would be worth becoming undead slaves of the Kinslayer."

"You got it, boss." Helix started to leave, then turned. "You um, you're going to get rid of that plague sample, right? It is not worth revenge on Stormwind to reintroduce the plague there."

"Helix, not even I am that blood thirsty," Vanessa said, shaking her head. "Though I don't intend to destroy it. I'll make sure this gets to the Argent Crusade. Perhaps they can help synthesize a cure."

"Thanks, boss."

Once the door was closed, Ginny turned to Vanessa. "I've heard of the Scourge before, but what is it that has you and Helix so spooked?"

"I forget you're not from around here," Vanessa said, sinking into her chair with a sigh. "The Scourge is a massive army of the undead. They seek to turn the entire world into an festering plagueland filled only with the undead and whatever sick freaks can survive that hellscape. They are controlled by Arthas the Kinslayer, former crown prince of Lordaeron. They've been inactive in Northrend since the end of the Third War, but they've been an axe hanging over the neck of the world. If they invade, there would be little anyone could do to stop them."

Ginny contemplated all this. "We couldn't run from them?"

Vanessa snorted. "They literally seek to cover the entire world in plague and undeath. There is nowhere to hide from the Scourge, and you could only run for so long. Our only prayer is that the armies of the world would defeat them before they made it as far south as Booty Bay."

"Then why are we seeking to destroy Stormwind, the most powerful nation in the world?" Ginny demanded. "If this Scourge is such a threat, shouldn't we be running straight to them to tell what's coming for them?"

"Because if Stormwind does die they deserve it!" Vanessa shouted, standing and glaring at Ginny. "They're monsters who would condemn innocent men to die and leave women and children to die!"

"Fine, fine! I was just wondering," Ginny said, raising her hands in surrender. "Besides, we've plundered enough of their ships that I doubt they'd listen to us anyway."

They sailed south for three days, making good time. About noon on the third day, the lookout cried out that they'd spotted a sail on the horizon.

"Do we give chase captain?" Ripsnarl asked, looking Vanessa.

"There was that storm a few nights back," Ginny offered. "Could be a merchy that could damaged and is floundering."

"I'm loath to return to port empty handed. We hunt!" Vanessa shouted.

The crew cheered, and set about clearing the deck for action. Soon though, the other ship spotted the Defiant, and began to run.

"Her mizzens down and her sails are heavily patched," Ginny shouted down to the deck below, hanging from a line in the rigging. "She looks like she's a Stormwind merchant ship though. Has the flag of the Royal Navy up, but by her cut I doubt that. Looks like a nice, fat prize."

"How many guns?" Vanessa shouted up.

"Mmm. Maybe half a dozen on one side? Not well armed. Probably doesn't even have a mage aboard."

"Then Glubtok will shatter their sails!" the ogre mage proclaimed.

Vanessa grinned. "Give us a wind, mage! I want that ship before nightfall!"

The chase dragged on for hours, but with Glubtok's sorcery, they seemed to pull ahead. Soon they were in canon range, and the Defiant began to fire shots over the deck of the enemy ship. To the pirates astonishment, the merchant ship struck its colors and hove to just an hour before sunset.

"Guess they didn't like their chances," Ginny said with a feral grin.

"I prefer my prey easy to digest," Vanessa agreed. "Plus, the ransom money is always nice."

It was after dark when they arrived at the other ship, which was darkened. It may have thought to slip away in the night, but Helix had launched flares that illuminated the sea for miles, preventing the merchant ship from slipping away.

"Ahoy the ship! This is the _Defiant_ , flagship of the Defias Brotherhood! Stand by to be boarded. Any resistance will result in the lot of you being fed to the fishes!" Ripsnarl shouted as they pulled within 100 yards of the other ship.

"We surrender!" the other ship replied. "Please, we're the _Fair Fortune_! We've not much valuable cargo, but the insurance company will pay our ransom!"

"The _Fair Fortune_?" one of the sailors said, surprised.

Vanessa turned to the man, frowning. "What is it?"

"Well, it's just, that ship was lost, ma'am. Vanished a year ago. Thought it was lost with all hands," the sailor answered.

"Maybe it's a new ship of the same name?" Ginny guessed.

"Well that's possible, but what kind of sailor would crew a ship that was known to be unlucky?" Ripsnarl asked. He shook his head. "I don't like this."

"Hmm." Vanessa rubbed her chin. "Change of plans. We go in with a double heavy boarding party. Helix! Tell the gunners to stand by and prepare for a trap!"

"Aye aye, captain," the goblin agreed, then vanished below decks.

"Glubtok, you go with Red. Any sign of trouble and I want a portal back to the Defiant immediately. We'll not tie up alongside. Instead, make a platform for us to cross."

"Aye aye," the ogre mage agreed.

Once they were close enough, Glubtok conjured up a purple disk that connected the two ships, and the double strength boarding party raced over. As soon as they were aboard a horrific stink like that of dead fish met Ginny's nostrils, but she ignored it.

The crew of the other ship appeared shocked, staring at the new arrivals from the shadows.

"What's the meaning of this?" an old man in a captain's uniform with a long flowing white beard demanded. "We said we surrendered! Surely you're not here to slay us all."

"No, only to make sure you don't try anything funny. What's your cargo?" Ginny demanded. She was leading the boarding party: Vanessa had stayed behind, ready to fight her ship if she needed to.

"Salted fish from Auberdine," the captain answered. "And some night elf carvings for market."

"Great. Well, at least we'll get the ransom. Peters, get your men and-"

"Tom? Tom Buckle is that you? I thought you went down on the _Sea Maid_ in the North Sea three years ago!" one of the sailors said.

Ginny felt her blood run cold. She took another look at the captain, who had skin like parchment and withered, bony hands. The other sailors were not near, hiding in shadows and skulking about. She hadn't thought anything of it: few honest seamen wanted to be near to pirates. As for the smell, she dismissed it as fish, but now-

"They're Scourge!" Ginny roared, firing her pistol in the captains face. "Glubtok, get us back, now!"

"Magic not working!" Glubtok shouted back, confused. His other head swore. "Anti-magic field's just gone up you moron!"

"Fight!" Ginny shouted, diving forward to try plant her knife in the captain's gut.

"Foolish child! None shall survive!" The captain shouted, drawing an amulet from his robes as he backed away. His face was half ruined by the pistol shot, but that didn't seem to phase him much "The dead shall serve me!"

"Not a chance!" Ginny vanished, stepping through darkness behind the captain, and stabbing him in the back. He let out a gurgle, then dropped. Ginny spun about, fighting off a sailor that had tackled her. The darkness had hid his deformity, but now Ginny saw his eyes were milky and his checks half rotted away. She gritted her teeth and kicked him him in the knee cap, then stuck her dagger into one of the eyes, the withdrew it and severed the man's head from his rotting neck.

Her sailors swore and fought desperately for their lives, struggling as more and more of the undead crew appeared, attacking with cutlasses, cudges, and bare boney hands. They were starting to overwhelm the pirates, with the deck shuddered and the are was filled with the roaring of cannons.

"DOWN!" Ginny screamed, diving for the deck. Most of the pirates made it in time, but a few were two slow and were shredded by the grape and chain shot that raked the deck. The undead sailors, however, were swept off their feet, smashed to pieces by the savage cannon fire. Ginny stayed down, and half a minute later a second salvo rang out, toppling the ship's mast and killing what few undead had still been stumbling about.

Ginny sprang to her feet, looking around for more enemies. Finding none, she ran over to one of her injured sailors.

"Nice eyes, Bill," she said, taking off her belt and trying off the spurting stump where Bill's left arm had once been.

"Thank you, ma'am," Bill gasped, his eyes glazed over with pain. "Served with Tom five years back. Decent fellow. Cheated at dice though. Glad to see he's properly dead now."

Soon, Vanessa was aboard with reinforcements, and they hurried below decks to put down any undead that were still moving.

"Hello?" a faint voice called from within the hold. "Is...is anyone alive out there? I heard fighting…"

"Captain, someone's alive down here," Ginny said, raising her lanturn high. "Could be a trap though."

"You four with us," Vanessa ordered, and together they climbed down a ladder into the bottom of the ships hold.

"Oh thank the Light," a tattered man moaned, blinking against the glare of the lanterns. He was chained in the bilgewater, dressed in the ragged remains of a Scarlet Crusader's tabard. "Please, you must know I'm infected. Don't come any closer."

"You've the plague?" one of the sailors demanded, pointing his pistol at the man.

He coughed, nodding. "Yes and in a moment, I'll ask you to end me and spare me from unlife. But first, you must know. This ship was carrying the plague to Stormwind. They intended to infect the entire city."

"Shit," Vanessa growled. "Well, I can't say I'll weep to see that den of filth fall."

"No! No, please, this is just the first move!" the Scarlet Crusader coughed again, and this time Ginny could see the blood on his hand. "I was to be one of their shock troops along with the plagued fish and grain in our hold. I was to be released as an undead abomination, spreading the plague, weakening the defenses. But this wasn't the end game of the Scourge."

"What do you mean?" Vanessa demanded.

"There are more behind us. We've been delayed, by storm and more. I should have turned weeks ago, but that vile necromancer masquerading as the captain kept me alive. I'm fading fast. You haven't much time. Behind me comes hordes of Scourge ships, and flights of Frost Wyrms. The Scourge are invading now."

"Light save us," one of the sailors moaned.

"Frost wyrms?" Vanessa asked, a hint of panic in her voice.

"Yes, yes! The first wave of plagued grain is likely already at the city. It may be infected even now...Please, you must warn them! Warn anyone! All of Azeroth will fall before the might of the Scourge if they are not warned in time."

Vanessa nodded slowly. "I see. Thank you." She drew her pistol, and put one shot through the head of the crusader, who slumped over, dead. Vanessa reloaded, then fired again when the corpse began to stir. It fell back, still and silent this time.

"Off the ship, now," Vanessa ordered. "We need to be underway 10 minutes ago."

They all raced back to the Defiant and cast off, racing away and Glubtok once more burned the ship.

"Vanessa, your cabin, now," Ginny said, grabbing her friend and mentor and dragging her to the cabin. She shut the door and turned to glare at Vanessa. "We have to warn them.

"They deserve to die!" Vanessa hissed. "I'm sworn to destroy Stormwind and avenge my father!"

"At what cost?" Ginny demanded. "Look I'm all for helping destroy the corrupt order and all that. But not at the cost of the people of Stormwind itself! There are innocent men women and children there!"

"I know"! Vanessa said, gripping her hair in both her hands and tugging as if to pull it out by the roots.

"Then prove your better than the same people you claim to hate! Save them!" Ginny demanded. "Or at least do it out of pure self interest! If Stormwind falls, how long will it be before those monsters are at Booty Bay!"

"Alright!" Vanessa said, glaring at Ginny and lowering her hands. "Alright! Fine! You win! We'll save the bastards." Vanessa stormed past Ginny, banging open the door to her cabin.

Ripsnarl jerked back, having been about to knock. "Captain, what do we-"

"Set course for Stormwind!" Vanessa snapped. "We're going to be great big bloody heroes!"

The crew gave a shaky cheer, and Ginny sighed, stepping out of the cabin.

"By now I'm sure you all heard what the poor devil in the hold said," Ginny shouted, stepping up onto a crate and glaring around at the crew. "The Scourge is coming. They've sent plague ships to every port it seems, and are dead sent on turning everyone into monsters just like they are."

The crew gasped and flinched, shocked that Ginny would proclaim their doom so openly.

"Well our captain, Vanessa Vancleef, is not going to let that happen! What is the Defias Brotherhood sworn to do? Helix! What is our sworn goal?"

"To, uh, liberate the oppressed workers of Stormwind and bring about the downfall of the corrupt Bourgeois upper class so that the means of production can be given to its rightful owners, the workers?" Helix said in a half questioning tone.

"Exactly! We're going to liberate Stormwind, right now. Not just from the nobles and their flunkies, but from the Kinslayer himself! We'll save the people from death and worse! They won't see our great captain as a pirate, but their savior! With us to lead them, they'll surely follow us to the bright and glorious future they've always wanted!"

Ginny paused half a beat, but most of the crew looked confused and concerned.

"And then they'll make a stinking rich for doing it! You lot won't be able to rest you'll get laid so often but you'll be so drunk off your feet you won't care!" Ginny shouted. "We're going to be great big bloody heroes and rich as kings!"

That got a mighty cheer.

"Three cheers for Captain Vancleef and First Mate Red!" one of the sailors shouted as the Defiant came about to make for Stormwind.

"Huzzah! Huzzah! Huzzah!"

\\\/\/\\\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

"Probably something boring," Harry said, cutting up a bit of talbuk steak as they sat quietly around the table, Pizyap perching on a bench and gnawing at some meat. .

"Yeah. Like homework," Ron agreed, glaring at the imp, who ignored him.

Hermione let out a long sigh. "Oh, I do so miss homework."


	9. Scourge of Stormwind II

Later, Vanessa came up to Ginny, who was leaning on the gunnels and staring off into the distance. "Not bad, kid. Not bad at all. Sometimes you remind me I made you my first mate for more than just the fact that you're the most vicious little spitfire I've ever seen."

Ginny smiled, but then her face slipped back into a frown as she looked off into the distance. "How much time do you think we have?"

Vanessa sighed. "It's two weeks yet to Stormwind harbor with this wind. But not long I'd wager."

That was a bet Vanessa would have won. Ten days later, a frozen north wind blew, and off in the distance, lighting could be seen along an advancing squall line.

"That's not natural, captain," Ripsnarl said, gazing through a telescope at the storm. "And…" Ripsnarl lowered the scope, his fur standing on end. "Light save us all…"

"What?" Ginny demanded.

Ripsnarl raised the glass again, but his hands were shaking. "I've seen a storm like that before. When the Scourge hit us at Mount Hyjal. As it got closer, we saw what was making it. Frost Wyrms. A storm that big...there are dozens. Hundreds. I don't know. Too many."

"Glubthok, wind, now!" Ginny shouted, running up to the tiller. "Get every stitch of sail we have up, now!"

"But Red, we could lose the mast with a storm like that coming in," one of the sailors protested.

"That storm gets to us and it won't bloody matter because we'll all be dead!" Ginny said, pointing. "That's the Scourge in that! And we have to get to Stormwind before it."

Soon, the Defiant was flying across the waves and Glubthok chanted and the crew scrambled to eek every spare bit of speed out of the ship. They dumped what meager treasure they had acquired overboard in an attempt to lighten the ship and reduce it's draft so they could make more speed.

For four days, they raced the storm. It started off hundreds of miles off, but slowly, as the days dragged by, the distance closed. On the last day, they drew within sight of Stormwind, less than 50 miles ahead of the storm.

"We've no time to raise the alarm," Vanessa informed the crew. "Ready for action. We're going to attack Stormwind harbor."

"What?! But that's madness!" Helix protested. "They'll sink us for sure."

"No, they won't. But they will raise their defenses and get ready to fight," Vanessa said. "We won't actually attack them. But they know I'm the captain of this ship, and that it represents the Defias Brotherhood reborn. They'll expect a full scale invasion and get every man to their defenses. If they can hope to survive, they'll need that."

"Aye, aye, captain," Helix said reluctantly. "I hope you know what you're doing."

"Raise the banner of the Brotherhood!" Vanessa shouted. "These landlubbers will know who it is that comes to save them!"

The scarlet banner went up, and Ginny shook her head. "This is insane."

"I'm not the one who wanted to be a great bloody hero," Vanessa said. Then she winked at Ginny. "But if I have to go out, I'll die fighting under the banner of my father. The banner of freedom. I'll die a free woman."

"Well. At least we'll have that," Ginny agreed. "Though personally, if it's all the same to you, I'd like to live a free woman instead of dying as one."

As they drew closer to the harbor, Vanessa ordered the guns to fire on the forts at the edge of the harbor. At this distance, even if they struck home, the balls would bounce off the thick rocks and do no harm.

Sure enough, Helix's gunnery struck home, but the shots fell harmlessly into the sea.

"Again!" Vanessa ordered. "I don't think those idiots are awake yet!"

As it turned out, they hadn't quite caught the Stormwind guard napping. They had seen the Defiant coming, and her banner. The guns of the fort fired, and the ship zigzagged wildly to dodge the incoming fire. The Defiants second cannonade went wild, crashing into the surf, but it had the intended effect. Bells began to toll and shouts of alarm could be heard as tiny figures began to race to and fro. Several warships began to cast off, clearing for action.

"Make for the beach," Vanessa shouted over the roar of the guns. "We'll ground her!"

Rigging began to fall as cannon balls slashed through the sails and topmasts. One sailor was crushed by falling timbers, but the crew gritted their teeth and continued on. Ginny looked behind them, swearing. The storm was less than 20 miles away now, and closing fast. Overhead, she heard the roar of flying machines, and ducked as one straffed the deck. Two crew members cried out, falling dead from the shots.

The Defiant ground into the sand of the small beach, shuddering and moaning. Ginny and the rest of the crew were knocked off their feet, and slowly righted themselves. Looking over the side of the ship, Ginny saw a legion of troops racing forward, led by a cohort of mounted calvary.

"Surrender, in the name of the king!" a captain shouted, his drawn sword pointed at the Defiant.

"Fine!" Ginny snapped. "But if it's all the same to you, can that wait until after we've stopped the God damned Scourge?"

"What?" the captain asked, baffled.

Ginny pointed to the coming storm. "That's full of frost wyrms and worse! We've come to warn you you great bloody idiot!"

A lieutenant raised his visor wand frowned. "But sir, they attacked-"

The captain wasn't listening though, having turned in his saddle to watch the oncoming storm. Ginny saw all the blood drain from his face, and the man stood in his saddle. "Come about!" the captain roared. "We're under attack! Scourge! Scourge at the harbor gates! Get those forts to open fire! And get those flying machines after their necropoli!"

Ginny turned about as the soldiers raced back, helping Vanessa to her feet. "Looks like they believed us."

"Wonderful," Vannessa groaned, clutching one of her arms that was bent at an odd angle. "I think I broke something."

"Mrrgggllle," a familiar voice said. Cookie hurried forward, his hands glowing green. A second later, the arm straightened.

"Thanks." Vanessa stood, raising her daggers. "Defias Brotherhood! Defend Stormwind City!"

The crew roared with approval, grabbing weapons and jumping down to the sand below, helped by wild tilt of the ship. Some had even been thrown into the sand, but most stood and joined the rush. Ginny was at the front with Vanessa, and the pirates races forward just as the storm hit.

Biting icy wind struck them first, and then overhead they hurd unearthly roars. Flying machines zoomed about, dog fighting with gargoyles and frost wyrms. Black pyramid shapes appeared out of the gloom, and from them descended a rain of undeath. Ghouls and abominations dropped to the ground, ready to kill.

However, instead of a quiet harbor, the undead found a kicked ants nest. The first wave were slaughtered immediately, and the forts blew two necropoli out of the sky before they could even begin to disgorge their troops. The warships had all successfully launched, and set about firing their guns as well, bringing down the frost wyrms that attacked them, as they made low lazy passes having expected an unawares foe.

The pirates joined in, attacking a batch of ghouls and abominations that had landed in a clear area. Ginny fought desperately, leaping up onto a massive abomination and hacking at its various arms. It spun about, trying to dislodge her, but she managed to cling on, plunging her poisoned daggers in and out repeatedly. As the creature slowed, she climbed up further, then drove her dagger deep into the primary head. The abomination gurgled, then topped over, dead for the last time.

Ginny had no rest though, having to roll away and attack a pair of ghouls that were fighting with Ripsnarl. The worgan sailing master was hard pressed, but Ginny flanked his opponents, cutting at their rotting legs. When one ghoul turned to attack her, Ripsnarl grabbed its skull and crushed it when it's back was turned. The other ignored Ginny, and for that she stabbed it in the spin, twisting her blade and causing it to collapse. It did not die, so Ginny crushed its skull under her boot.

They fought for what felt like hours, but was really more like 15 minutes. Then, out of the fog and mist, a horn sounded.

"SOLDIERS OF THE ALLIANCE!" a deep voice boomed. "STAND FAST! YOUR KING FIGHTS WITH YOU!"

Out of the gloom raced a charger, bearing upon it a massive man in plate, his long hair streaming behind him in a warriors braide. The man bore two glowing longswords, and slashed at an abomination, felling it in one stroke. Then the man turned his horse toward a frost wyrm that was fighting the pirates on the ground, one of its wings torn away by a cannonball. Vanessa was going toe-to-toe with the horror, but she was bleeding from a dozen minor wounds, and was slowing down. Ginny was darting in to strike at the things flank, but she had to be careful of the lashing tale and wicked breath.

The beast reared up, ready to fire off an icy blast. Vanessa tried to dodge, but was too slowed by her wounds.

"No!" Ginny cried.

But Varian Wrynn, King of Stormwind, joined his two blades together into one massive sword, and lept from the back of his galloping warhorse. With a mighty roar, he sailed through the air, bringing his sword down on the skull of the frost wyrm. The beast's skull cracked, and it fell over, the sheer force of the blow knocking it off of its feet. As the beast thrashed, Wynn walked over, splitting his sword into two pieces again. With a flurry of blows, he finished off the frost wrym, and the creature lay still, the blue glow leaving it as the bones returned to dust.

"I could have taken it," Vanessa growled, licking blood that had dripped from her nose away from her lips as she lay panting on the cobblestones.

The king turned, raising an eyebrow at Vanessa. "My apologies, then, fair maiden. Come. I am certain there are enough left that you can claim another kill."

"Oh you can fuck right off," Vanessa snarled, dragging herself to her feet.

Wynn laughed, then reached into his cloak. He withdrew a red vial, tossing it to Vanessa. "Come then! For the Stormwind, and the Alliance!" Then the king ran off, bellowing his defiance as he lept at another group of scourge fighting some of his soldiers.

Prying the cork out of the bottle with her teeth, Vanessa downed the vial then ran forward. "I am not letting some jumped up nancy boy of a king steal my kills!"

Ginny sat down, panting. She was hurt in a dozen places herself, but didn't feel such a drive to prove she was the equal of the King of Stormwind.

"Miss, are you injured? Come, I can take you away from the battle."

Ginny looked up to see a concerned looking boy with a blond head of hair dressed in some sort of squires uniform holding out a hand to her. She batted it away. "Piss off. I've already killed dozen Scourge today and I'll go and kill a dozen more. You get to safety, you snot nosed brat."

The boy's eyes widened in shock, and he stepped back as Ginny stood on shaky legs. "But you're injured!"

"It's only a flesh wound," Ginny said dismissively. "And my captain needs me."

The boy looked over to where Vanessa and the King were fighting off another frost wyrm. Wynn distracted it from the front, while Vanessa circled around, using her poisoned daggers to crumble its rear leg, then dive forward to strike at its frozen heart through its rib cage.

"I see. Well, allow me to see to your wounds then." The boys hands glowed, and Ginny felt a surge of strength as the Light healed her.

"Oh, I am keeping you," Ginny vowed, she grabbed the boys arm and dragged him off towards the fight. "I could use a bloody paladin, or priest, or whatever the hell you are. Just keep me healed up and I'll do the heavy lifting."

"But I'm-"

"Heal. Bot. That's all I need. Now shut up and don't die."

As it turned out the boy was good for more than just healing, smiting the scourge with various light spells as they fought. The battle swirled around them, and Vanessa and the king drew away, while Ginny found herself fighting alongside her crew along with the boy. The battle lasted for another hour, but the boy did a good job of keeping the pirates healed up. Finally, a voice echoed through the mists.

"Fools! You may have repealed this paltry attack, but we shall come again! My lord waits in Icecrown Citadel, and he can send forth endless legions of the undead to destroy you!"

"Tell Arthas that I shall climb Icecrown Citadel and tear it apart with my own two hands!" the defiant voice of Varian Wrynn called back. All eyes turned to the king as he stood at the edge of the wall overlooking the harbor, pointing his blade at the retreating necropoli. "The Alliance will end his miserable existence one and for all!"

"And tell that frozen fucker he not only owes me a new ship, but he can kiss my ass!" Vanessa screamed, jumping up on the wall beside the king and making a very rude gesture. "The Defias Brotherhood is coming for your so called king just so I can stick my boot up his icy behind!"

The pirate crew roared with laughter, and several made rude gestures of their own. Ginny went so far as to drop her pants and spank her rear in the direction of the retreating enemy, causing the crew to roar with laughter and more than a few wolf whistles, quite literally in the case of Ripsnarl.

Ginny grinned, pulling her trousers up and sheathing her daggers. She noticed the squire was staring at her, red faced and horror struck.

"Enjoy that look boy," Ginny teased. "It's the first and only look of my precious posterior you're ever likely to get."

The boy snapped his mouth shut. "Um, I should be going, thanks for helping, bye!"

The crew shouted insults and cat calls after the boy, a few of the female sailors offering to show him a lot more if he stuck around, but that only caused the boys ears to go so red Ginny thought they might burst into flames as he ran off.

"Alright, alright, settle down," Ginny ordered. "We'd best be going before these guards realize we're all wanted pirates, and if it's all the same to you lot, I'd rather not be measured for a necktie today."

The crew chuckled, but they agreed, heading back towards the harbor.

"But First Mate Red, the Defiant is beached. How are we supposed to get away?" someone asked.

Ginny rolled her eyes. "We're pirates you daft moron. We'll damn well steal something."

However, that proved to be impossible when two cadres of Stormwind Guards surrounded them.

"Crew members of the Defiant, you are hereby ordered to the keep at once," the captain growled. "Don't try disappearing on us. Drop your weapons, and do as your told."

"What do we do, Red?" Ripsnarl asked, looking around. "They outnumber us, and the boys and girls are all exhausted.

Ginny glanced up, seeing Vanessa standing with the King, his hand gripping her shoulder. Vanessa shook her head, making a face.

With a heavy sigh, Ginny dropped her weapons. "Games up lads. We had a good run of it. See you all in hell."

Despite being locked in a cell, Ginny passed out immediately after the guards let her go. She was completely exhausted by the days long flight ahead of the storm, and the grueling battle. When she awoke, it was to find that healer boy from earlier standing outside of the cell door.

"They put you in here?" he asked, clearly horrified.

"I am a pirate, love," Ginny said, groaning and stretching on the straw pallet. "Wanted for hanging and all that."

"But, you're a hero!" the boy protested.

Yawning, Ginny rolled over to face the wall. "No, I'm Ginny the Red, First Mate of the Defiant and terror of the high seas. I'm no hero."

The boy was silent, and after a few moments, Ginny heard his footsteps echoing away down the corridor. She closed her eyes, and went back to sleep. If she was going to hang, she was going to do so well rested.

After what felt like five minutes, Ginny felt something soft hit her back. She rolled over to see the boy again. "Don't worry, I'll get you out. Here, I brought you a dress. Sorry I don't know if it fits, but its all the maid had that might be your size.

Ginny held up the dress, making a disgusted face. She stood, and threw the dress back in the boys face. "I don't wear dresses! Sweet rum lad do you really think a pirate is going to be hanged in a nice fancy dress?"

"You... don't wear dresses?" the boy asked incredulous. "What sort of lady doesn't wear dresses?"

Ginny rolled her eyes. "I'm not a lady. Obviously. They don't hang ladies."

"Oh." The boy turned red and fled, leaving Ginny to slump back down, bored. Now she was too well rested to fall back asleep. The guards soon brought breakfast, which was actually nice warm bread and some hot sausages.

"Not bad for a last meal. My compliments to your chef," Ginny told the guard. "Got anything to drink?"

He tossed her a bottle, which turned out to be filled only with water to Ginny's disappointment. "They're still deciding what to do with you lot."

"What, I don't even get to be present at my own trial?" Ginny demanded.

The guard snorted. "You're a bloody pirate. You don't need a trial."

"Fair enough. Cheers."

Not long after the guard departed, the boy returned with another bundle.

"Wow. You must really have the hots for me. Never seen a girls bum before?" Ginny demanded.

"I...I….I...brought you some trousers. And a shirt. They're mine but I hope they fit, your old clothes are practically ruined."

Ginny dubiously took the clothes, finding them to be of fine mageweave and silk. "Wow. Almost a shame for me to wear these, seeing as I'll be dead soon."

"I won't let that happen," the boy vowed. "They can't kill you, you're all heroes."

"Bit of a big head you've got there eh?" Ginny asked. She shook her head. "Well run along now. I'm not changing with you standing there waiting for another look. Get me out of the hanging and we'll talk."

"That's not why...I didn't…" the boy fled, and Ginny stuck her arm through the bars, waving merrily.

"Goodbye, HealBot. I'll be sure to think of you right before my neck snaps."

Once the boy was definitely gone, Ginny sat down, cradling the clothes and began to sob helplessly. This was it. She was really going to die. Far away from home, never to see her family again. Her parents would never even know what had happened to their daughter. Which, come to think of it, was probably a good thing.

"I'm so sorry," Ginny sobbed, holding her head in her hands. "I just wish I could have told you how much I loved you all. Mum, I was wrong, I should have listened more, tried harder to be a good daughter. Dad, I miss you so, so much. I wish you could be proud of me instead of having become a murderous thief."

After having a good cry, Ginny changed into the new clothes, which were a bit small for her. The boy had looked about 12 or so, the same as her, but she'd had quite the growth spurt and he seemed not to have hit his yet. Drying her face and wiping away the snot with her old clothes, Ginny tossed them in the corner, determined to face death with a brave face. She wasn't Ginevra Weasley anymore. She was Ginny the Red, Terror of the High Seas.

About midday, a man in dark leather with a hooded cloak came for her. "Well, we've decided what to do with you lot. Come- what are you wearing?"

Ginny looked down at her clothes, which had a blue and gold Lion embroidered on it, along with three silver trumpets. "What? The boy gave them to me, the one who was my healer for the battle. Think they're too nice to be hanged in, do you?"

The man leaned forward, revealing bright green eyes, a bristling red moustache and a neatly trimmed goatee. "Do you know who that boy was?" He demanded.

Ginny shrugged. "Some priestly acolyte or paladin's squire judging by the holy magic he was throwing around. I showed him something he liked and he seems to have taken a fancy to me. Hopefully he won't mourn me for too long, he was sort of cute in an awkward sort of way."

"Light have mercy on us all," the man groaned, resting his head on one hand as he heaved a heavy sigh. "I'll never hear the end of this. Too late to have you change now. Come. You're all being called to the courtyard."

Ginny followed the man out, surprised he didn't bind her wrists, though she was flanked by two very large guards. Soon she was with the rest of the crew, shifting restlessly behind a row of armed guards. Most of them looked as though they'd not suffered any ill treatment, which was odd. Normally the guards wouldn't have thought twice about roughing up a few pirates for kicks.

"Where's the captain?" Ginny demanded, elbowing her way forward to Helix.

The goblin glanced at her, and shrugged. "Dunno. But I can see where we're going." He jerked his head towards a gallows that had been erected in the courtyard.

Ginny made a face. "Lovely. We'll even have to wait turns. Thought they normally left us to dangle a bit as a warning."

"Search me. This is my first time getting hanged. Might even survive this," Helix said.

"How?"

"You can't hang a goblin. Our bodies don't weigh enough for our neck to snap. So normally they find another way to dispose of us, and I don't see a headsman or nothin'. Bunch of morons."

"Well bully for you," Ginny muttered.

Just then, the sound of trumpets blared, and the king appeared on a raised dais at the rear of the courtyard. Everyone turned to face him, along with the young blonde boy at his side, and the dark haired lady in a flowing scarlet dress.

"Is that the queen?" Ginny asked, standing on tiptoes to see.

"Nah, queens dead. Maybe she's the kings squeeze," Helix guessed.

"Oh my God. is that... that's the boy who was fighting with us yesterday!" Ginny said. She poked at one of the guards standing in front of her. "Who's the lad with the king and his squeeze?"

The guard half turned, frowning. "Be silent. That's Prince Anduin Wrynn. The king is going to make a speech, so shut it, pirate."

Ginny looked down at her clothes, flushing red. "Oh hell, I'm wearing the prince's clothes?"

"Duh," Helix said, glancing at her tabard. "That's his personal insignia along with the Lion of House Wrynn. Those three trumpets there, that's his personal seal."

"Oh bloody buggering hell," Ginny moaned. "I did not want to die like this today."

"Personally I didn't want to die like anything at anytime," Helix observed.

"Shut up," the guard growled again.

"-and so we condemn these traitors to death, as befits those who would sell out their own kin for wealth and power," the king was saying.

"Not like it's really a surprise," Ginny observed. "Though I don't recall selling out my family."

"Eh, I sold my aunt out for a bounty once," Helix said. "Give it time."

The king finished his speech, and Ginny braced herself to be led to the gallows. Instead, however, a gate opened, and chained and bound men and women were led forward, with hoods on their heads. The hoods were removed on the platform, and their names and crimes were all read aloud.

"The Cult of the Damned?" Ginny said in surprise. "Why the bloody hell do they have us watching them get offed? Just want to build suspense, the sick bastards?"

"-and may the Light have Mercy on your souls!" the priest on the platform proclaimed. "Do any of you wish to repent?"

"I shall rise again, reborn as something greater!" one of the men screamed.

"I'll take that as a no, then," the executioner growled. He yanked the lever, and the trap doors all opened at once. The cultists fell, and Ginny winced as she heard the audible snap of their necks. A few of them did seem to dance on air for a moment, but not for long. Mages hurried forward, and the bodies were set alight as priests and paladins performed exorcisms.

"So much for coming back from that," Ginny said wryly. "Wonder if we'll get the same treatment."

Helix, who had gone purple, shook his head. "Mother of explosions. I sure hope not."

"Now, to other matters," the king shouted, and GInny closed her eyes.

"We of Stormwind owe a great debt to all who would defend us from our foes, even at the risk of their own life. Though they were once lost to us as brothers, we must acknowledge those who returned, on pain of their own death, to aid us in our hour of need. Vanessa Vancleef! Come forth!"

The pirates looked around, then gasped when the lady in the fancy dress stepped forward.

"Sweet Neptulon, I think that's the captain!" someone cried.

Vanessa turned, glaring at her crew, and in that moment Ginny recognized her. It was no surprise none of them had realized who the lady was: her hair was done up in some fancy style, and she wore makeup and fine clothes and jewelry.

"Shut it you sea dogs, and play along if you know what's good for you!" she roared over the crowd.

The pirates as one, raised knuckles to their brows, and kept their traps shut for a wonder.

Vanessa stood before King Varian, glariing defiantly up at him. He drew his great sword, holding it over her head.

"Vanessa Vancleef. You and your crew stand accused of the most heinous crimes. Piracy. Murder. Theft. Rape."

"I object to that last one," Vanessa declared loudly. "Any rapers among us had a long walk off a short plank. After we removed the offending organ."

There were murmurs of agreement from the crew. "Just because we're murderous scallywags doesn't mean we don't have morals," someone called.

"I said stuff it!" Vanessa roared, turning and glaring at them.

The pirates meekly shut their mouths, save for the ones around the offender who mercilessly pummeled the poor man until he was knocked unconscious.

"Very well, the charge of rape shall be dropped," King Wrynn said seriously. "How do you plead to the other charges?"

"We did what we did in our fight against the corrupt nobles and bureaucracy of Stormwind!" Vanessa shouted back, glaring her defiance at the king. Her fists were clenched, and for a moment, she looked as though she were standing at the wheel of her ship in the midst of a storm. "I fought for the people of Stormwind! For my crew! For those that were betrayed by you and your petty nobles and left to die in the wilderness. We fight for the weak and oppressed! And we saved your sorry ungrateful asses, against my better judgement, simply because we couldn't stand by and see the people slaughtered by the Scourge. But as for you, O great king, you can go hang on your own gallows! If you and I fought, I'd come out the victor and we all know it."

Despite the orders to the contrary, the crew cheered and hooted, clapping for their brave leader.

"For the Brotherhood!"

"Defias to the end!"

"Captain Vancleef!"

"You think you could beat me in a fair fight?" Varian asked, raising an incredulous eyebrow once the pirates had quieted down.

"Who said anything about fair?" Vanessa asked, rolling her eyes dramatically. "What kind of a pirate would I be if I fought like that?"

Wrynn threw back his head and roared with laughter, to the shock of the assembled crowd. His son, Anduin, smiled shyly and waved at Ginny, who flushed and turned away.

"Oh gods I'm going to bloody die," she groaned.

"Hey, ain't that the kid you showed your arse too, Red?" one of the sailors asked.

"The next person to mention that is going to have an extra breathing hole in their belly," Ginny snarled, looking up and glaring around. No one said anything else, though Helix was giggling. Ginny let that slide. She felt like laughing like a loon as well.

At last, Wrynn wiped away the tears in his eyes with a gauntleted hand. "I like you, girl. You have spirit." Then he frowned, growing serious. "Your father and his men were wronged. The vile beast responsible for that, the dread wyrm Onyxia, has been slain. On behalf of Stormwind and her people, I apologize for the mistreatment you suffered."

Then, to everyone's astonishment, Wrynn raised the sword again. "Kneel, Vanessa Vancleef, Captain of the Defiant and Leader of the Defias Brotherhood."

Ginny gasped, unable to close her eyes or look away as Vanessa slowly got to her knees, awkward in her long skirts.

But, instead of cleaving her head from her body the king gently laid the flat of his blade upon each of the captain's shoulders. "I name thee Lady Vanessa Vancleef, Countess of Westfall, and Captain of the Stormwind Navy. May you serve Stormwind and her people with the same honor and devotion you have shown thus far."

Ginny jaw dropped open as murmurs of astonishment swept through the crowd. Vanessa staggered to her feet, utterly flabbergasted.

"I'm sorry but… what? Are you mad? Did you just...make me a noble?"

"No one, not even a king, can make someone something they are not," Varian proclaimed, silencing the crowd with his booming voice. "I am merely acknowledging the virtues that are already present." He paused, bending slightly as Aundine whispered. He grinned, clapping the prince on the back and nodding. "I am also reminded that one other showed great valor and virtue upon the battlefield, even convincing Lady Vancleef to come to our aide. "Ginny the Red, come forth!"

Ginny stared in astonishment as the pirates all moved away from her, gaping in shock themselves.

"You mean me?" Ginny said, pointing to herself looking around as if the king could have been talking talking of anyone else.

"Indeed. Come forth!" Varian said, nodding and resting his blade upon his shoulder.

Slowly, Ginny made her way through the crowd and up the stairs.

"Don't screw this up, girl," the hooded man from earlier growled as she neared the top of the platform.

"I don't see how I could do any worse than this," Ginny said faintly. She blinked, taking a few more steps and standing before the king.

"Kneel, Ginny the Red," Varian ordered.

"Um, actually, that's not my real name. Um, sir. Your kingship," Ginny stammered. "I'm actually Ginevra Weasley. They just call me Ginny the Red because Ginevra Weasley is a dreadful name for a pirate."

"Well, then be a pirate no more, Ginerva Weasley. I name you a Knight of Stormwind, and ward of the realm, until such a time as you come of age."

"Oh that's hardly fair! I'm only a few years younger than she is," Ginny protested, pointing to Vanessa.

"Shut up and take it," Vanessa growled, kicking Ginny's feet out from under her. "It's better than being measured for a rope necklace."

Ginny winced as she landed awkwardly, but managed to right herself on her knees.

"Um, thank you, your majesty," Ginny stammered. "I'll um, be sure to help save the kingdom again if it ever needs it."

Then the king issued pardons for the entire crew, with a reminder that any future crimes they commited would result in them having to pay the full price for their past misdeeds. Ginny, however, found herself in a daze as she stood alongside Vanessa, wondering what in the hells had just happened to her.

"Thanks again for helping to save us," the prince said, coming up to Ginny once the ceremony was over. "I told father he couldn't kill you, and he agreed. Stormwind needs heroes like you."

"Er, thanks," Ginny said, blushing furiously. "I, um, I should give you the clothes back. And I guess give you what I promised. I'm not normally a loose woman but right now I'm so relieved I'm not going to die it actually sounds like a good idea."

Now it was the princes turn to blush furiously. "What?! No! I mean, thank you, my lady, but no such payment is necessary. What I did, I did for honor, not lust."

"Just as well for you boyo," Vanessa growled. "My little sister is far too young to be trading her favors for freedom."

"And my son to young to be receiving them," Varian said, coming forward and setting a hand affectionately on Anduin's shoulder.

"If you think I'm going into your bedchamber tonight you overgrown lummox, you have another thing comin," Vanessa snapped.

Varian chuckled, shaking his head. "And I suppose I'm much to old be be receiving such favors from someone as young as you, Lady Vancleef."

Vanessa went beet red. "Now you see here your kinglyness! I'm a full grown woman! I've captained a blood thirsty crew and seen and done things that would make your blood boil and your balls burst!"

"I think you underestimate me somewhat," Varian chuckled. "But come. We have much to discuss. That attack was the final nail in Arthas' coffin. I will no longer suffer the continued existence of the Scourge. And as a captain in my fleet, you will join us in the war room."

Anduin left as well, leaving Ginny to stand about awkwardly as the crew were led away. Apparently, they'd just been pressed into the Stormwind Navy. Which, considering the alternative, wasn't too bad of a deal.

"Well, you're certainly an interesting one," the hooded man said, coming to stand beside Ginny. "Got a lit of fire in your spirit."

Ginny glared up at the man. "I've got a lot more than that if you think you're going to try anything."

The man chuckled, shaking his head. "Not at all. My name is Mathias Shaw. And I'd like you to come work for me."

"And if I'm not interested?" Ginny asked. "I'd like to stay with the captain."

Shaw shook his head. "You're too young to head to Northrend, and I have other plans that don't involve wasting you on the scourge. No, you either come with me, or I ship you off to Darkshore to train with my agents there."

"Fine," Ginny said with a sigh. "I suppose you think you're going to make a proper lady out of me or some such nonsense."

Shaw snorted. "That would be a waste of talent. No, girl. I'm going to teach you how to kill a man a hundred different ways, and never be seen while doing it. How to make someone fall in love with you then forget you the next day. How to pick a man's pocket and have him thank you for it. In short, you're going to be spy, and knife in the hand of the king."

"Oh. Well, that doesn't so bad I suppose," Ginny admitted. "I'm already pretty good at the whole killing people thing and I can skulk with the best of them."

"Vancleef is good, especially with poisons. But we're about to take you to the next level, girl. Come along. It's time to introduce you to the cheesemakers."

 _Authors Note:_

 _Blessed are the cheesemakers, for they shall be quest givers._


	10. The North Wind Calls I

Bidding farewell to Hermione, Ron and Harry along with the rest of their party departed Telador and headed through the swamp.

"We've decided that there khorium is just the wrong material," Hermione told them before leaving. "We need something new for the Thought Outsourcer. Maybe one of the more exotic metals."

"I've heard tell of a metal with very interesting properties on Azeroth," K Lee said. "But it can only be found in one place: Northrend. Dangerous, but likely worth the effort!"

"What's the point of that thing anyway?" Ron demanded. "Yeh can't just go around takin' over folks minds."

Hermione and the gnomes blinked. "Well, I mean, the point is mostly to build it," Hermione said. "To prove that the concept is possible."

"Just because you can do something doesn't mean you should," Harry told her. "Walk in the Light, Hermione. Consorting with demons and taking over peoples minds, it just isn't right. They're not just mindless toys you can play with."

"Mindless….hmmm," Hermione mused. "Thank you, Harry. Perhaps we should conduct a survey to determine what the purpose of our science should be."

"What, like a social science?" Wilfred asked. "That's hardly gnomish at all."

"What if it was social explosiveering?" K Lee asked. "Our experiments do involve a lot of explosions."

Wincing, Harry and Ron left, hoping that their friend wouldn't do anything too awful while they were gone.

The journey through the swamp was hazardous, with bogstriders looming out of the mists to try to snatch a rider from their elekk, and marshlighters and neither rays attacking the gryphon riders. Once, as they were making their way through a stagnant pool, Harry heard an unearthly wail, and a tendril swung out of the mists, knocking him into the water. He came up sputtering, only to have another tendril snap out at him. He drew his sword and swung at it, but was buffeted away, slamming into a large mushroom.

From behind him, Harry heard Impa let out shriek as the bogstrider appeared from the mists, its tentacles reaching for her. Without thinking, Harry called upon the Song of the Naaru, and the Light filled him. He extended a hand towards Impa, and suddenly a shimmering barrier surrounded her. The tentacles rebounded off of the shield, giving Impa enough time to leap off of her saddle, a her hammer in a two handed grip. She glowed with lightning, slamming into the bogstrider with a boom of thunder. The beast reeled back, and Harry managed to surge forward, swinging his sword in an overhand blow and infusing it with the Light.

The creature wailed again, falling back, as Harry and Impa took up defensive stances.

Then from on high, there was a loud scream of rage, and Ron on Sharpbeak plummeted from the mushroom tops, a gout of flame leaping from Ron's hands onto the beast. Sharptalon's claws raked at it's eye stalks, then the two were gone again in a flurry of wings.

In pain and confused, the bogstrider retreated as the other Vindicators hurried forward, shouting and waving their weapons. As suddenly as it had arrived, the creature vanished back into the mists, leaving behind only a charred twitching tentacle.

"Alright?" Harry gasped, looking to Impa and clutching his bruised ribs.

She nodded, flashing a quick grin. "Thanks for that. I didn't even see it coming. Here, let me help with your wounds."

Water flowed up from the ground into Impa's hands, shuffling off the muck and slime and glowing a pure blue. Impa directed it onto Harry's wounds, and the water soothed away the pain, knitting the bone and repairing the muscle.

"Thanks," Harry sighed, straightening and looking to his elekk. The beast was frightened, but it hadn't suffered more than a few scrapes, which Harry was able to mend easily enough.

A moment later Ron and Mylra landed, their weapons glowing with fire and thunder.

"The beastie's gone for now," Ron said. "Sorry about that, Harry. Didn't even see the bastard coming."

"It's alright, no harm done," Harry assured Ron. "You drove it off with that dive of yours. I'm surprised you could see it at all in this mist."

"Are we well?" Maraad asked, riding up on his elekk, his hammer in his hands.

"Yes, Vindicator," Harry said. He and Impa remounted. "Let's get out of here."

The next day they arrived in Nagrand without further incident. Unlike Zangamarsh or Hellfire Peninsula, Nagrand could almost be mistaken for a normal place. There were rolling plains of grass, stands of trees with narrow leaves, and winding canyons that looked similar to the african savanna. Until you saw the floating rocks spewing forth an endless stream of water, that is.

"How do they not run out of water?" Harry asked Impa, frowning up at the water that continued to fall.

Impa shrugged. "I sense water spirits within them. They must call forth the water from the elemental plane."

"Neat trick, that," Ron observed, nodding up at the waterfall. "Be useful for an army."

"Aye, a shaman can keep a whole regiment supplied with clean water," Mylra said. "It's one reason the Aerie can never fall to a siege."

The party made their way along a winding, dusty road, passing by herds of clefthoof and talbuk, and the occasional wandering elekk. Harry also saw a large number of elementals wandering the landscape, from swirling dust devils that crackled with thunder, to wandering piles of rock that shook and raged.

"The elements of this place are still unbalanced," Ron told him that night, as they sat around a campfire. "So much destruction has been wrought here. This world, it's dying, or already dead perhaps."

"I heard it was destroyed by demons and fel magic," Harry said with a shudder. "I can still sense it sometimes. I hope this conclave can help restore balance of a kind."

"I don't know. I'm more here to observe and learn then do anything really special. Mylra knows more about that," Ron said.

That night, Harry lay awake long hours, gazing at the other worlds that could be seen in the sky, along with the twisting nether that swirled like the aurora borealis.

"Hey, what are you thinking about," Impa whispered, poking him in the side.

"Just wondering why I'm here, I suppose," Harry answered, turning his head to look at Impa, who had crawled half out of the tent to lay beside him. "I mean, not coming to the conclave, I know I'm here to learn the ways of the Vindicar. I mean, why did I arrive in Azeroth? Ron wants to go home, I know, but I don't."

"You've never really talked about where you were from," Impa mused, plucking a tuft of grass and running it through her fingers. "But do you miss your home so little? I suppose I wouldn't wish to live here on Draenor any longer, but I am glad I got to visit."

Harry let out a long sigh. "You already know I'm an orphan. I lived with my relatives, but they didn't care much for me. Hogwarts was great, Ron and Hermione were my first real friends. But the Exodar is so much more. Everyone there lives and walks in the Light. The peace, the joy, the love, it's so beyond what I had on Earth."

"Hmmm," Impa said, dropping her blade of grass and drawing odd doodles in the earth.

"Plus, there's you," Harry said, grinning at Impa.

She froze, then eyed Harry. "What do you mean, me?"

"Well, I mean, Ron will always be my best mate I think, but you're a good friend too. I think I'd miss you more than anyone on Earth if I had to leave for some reason."

Impa glared at Harry, using her tail to poke him in the leg. "Oh, and what if Ron left? Would you go galavanting off with him back to Earth since he's your 'best mate' and all that. Honestly. I didn't even know humans mated like that."

"I...what?" Harry looked at Impa puzzled. "That's not what a best mate is."

"Then perhaps human reproduction is rather different than I thought, because for draenei, only men and women can mate," Impa sniffed. "And to think...bah. Never mind." She turned to wiggled back into the tent, but Harry sat up and put his hand on her shoulder.

"You think...me and Ron?" he started laughing, having to put a hand over his mouth to keep the noise down.

"Obviously, that is what you have been saying, yes?" Impa said, sitting up herself and glaring at Harry, her eyes glowing faintly in the dim light.

"That's not what...look, a best mate is just someone who always has your back. It's two blokes who are always there for each other. But they don't...mate. Humans work the same as draenei. You've got your mates, your friends, your best mates, that are your close friends, and your girlfriend or wife. I think...I think the closest term in draenic would be rakt. You know, comrades in arms."

Impa narrowed her eyes. "So you think of Ron as a boon companion, then? Not as a mate?"

"By the Light, no!" Harry said, shaking his head. "I mean, I love Ron as a brother, but not like that."

"Than what am I to you, Harry Potter?" Impa demanded. "Are we rakt? Best mates?"

Harry hesitated. He hadn't really thought too much about his relationship with Impa. "I think...I think we are more than just friends. But I don't know. I do know I would no more want to lose you than Ron."

"Well. We are both young yet. Besides, I am not even sure myself. You are, after all, human. Good night, Harry Potter."

With that, Impa crawled back in and went to sleep, leaving a confused, and strangely excited, Harry sitting alone under the dim light of the nether.

The next day, Harry rode beside Ron a short distance away from the column as they neared Garadar, the orcish town before the Throne of Elements.

"Hey, Ron, do you, you know, like Mylra?" he asked.

"Of course. She's basically my big sister. She and ma and da, that is Douglas and Isla, took me in when I wound up in the Hinterlands," Ron said.

"That's not what I meant, though I suppose you answered my question. I meant more like, is there a girl, that, you know, you like?"

Ron frowned, looking up at Harry. "Bloody hell Harry, she's like my sister."

"I know, I know, and she's a dwarf," Harry admitted. "I suppose we should just like other humans."

Ron went very red in the face. "Well, I mean, just because she's a dwarf doesn't mean...that is, she's like a sister and but her being a dwarf doesn't have anything to do with it. Some of the lasses I've met, well, almost everyone I meet is a dwarf, but I sort of like some of them."

Harry kept his eyes fixed firmly ahead, his own face going slightly red. "So, you don't think it would be wrong to like a girl if she wasn't, you know, human?"

"Um, I don't know," Ron admitted. "I mean, back home you were thought to be really odd of yeh took up with a giant or merfolk or something but it happened. Hells, folks said Hagrid was a half giant yeh know."

"Were the giants sort of normal? I mean, did they look alright?" Harry asked, feeling very confused.

"Oh spirits no, they were ugly as an ogre and even bigger. How that would even work I don't...look, the stuff back home was different. Dwarves were ugly and twisted little things. And elves, well, I don't know who in their right mind would take up with a house elf. But, well, I've met the Farstriders and some of their lasses are very fine. But they're not really proper woman. A real fine girl would have to be able to hold her beer, and have something to her, you know? Not be all skinny like an elf. Have something you could get yer hands around, as me da says."

Ron paused, then looked up, frowning at Harry. "What makes you ask all this, then? You got your eye on someone?"

Harry very pointedly did not say anything, though his gaze wandered over to where Impa was riding beside the Farseer and Mylra, the three shamen conversing in low tones.

"Oh. Aye, she's easy on the eyes I suppose," Ron allowed. "The horns and tail are a bit odd, and the hooves, but she's not a thin little thing. She swings that bloody great hammer of hers proper like. Don't know if she can hold her drink well though."

"Impa's not some great glutton like you," Harry snapped, glaring at Ron. Then he flushed, realizing what he had said. "I mean, I don't know...we're just friends and I- look, I'm sorry I called you a glutton."

Ron laughed uproariously, causing Harry's elekk to shy away from him slightly. "Look mate, yeh can call me whatever yeh like, just don't call me late for dinner. A proper dwarf can drink all night and feast till dawn and get up and fight all day!"

"Do you want to be a proper dwarf?" Harry asked, curious.

Ron paused, then shrugged. "If I can no be a proper Weasley, I think being a proper Wildhammer will do for me. You want to be a proper draenei? I did mean what I said, blue isn't for me but she's no a sore sight to look at."

"I don't know yet," Harry admitted. "But I will walk the path of the Light, and see where it leads me."

Ron nodded. "Aye. You do that. I don't hold any personal truck with the Light, but it seems a good thing, and you paladins and such good people. I'll be glad to have you and Impa at me back any day, Harry."

That afternoon, they arrived at the lakeshore near Garadar. The orcs here eyed them suspiciously from their walls, but did not make any hostile moves. Instead of taking a boat, the four shaman cast spells of water walking upon the party, and they made their way across the lake top. It felt a bit like riding on very loose sand, but other than that Harry could hardly tell they were walking across the water.

"This is pretty cool," Harry told Impa. He searched around for a moment, trying to find the right thing to say, before settling on, "I think you're pretty brilliant. I mean, not just the spells, but the spells are nice too."

Impa turned and regarded Harry with a raised eyebrow. "I will have to ask when human males enter their moorkhata ka samay. You seem to be close to yours."

"My time of foolishness? What does that mean?" Harry asked, confused.

Impa laughed and spurred her elekk away, leaving a very confused Harry.

After an hours ride across the laketop, they arrived at the Throne of the Elements. It was similar to Stonehenge, which Harry had visited on a school trip once, but in many ways was subtly different. For one thing, it was massive, easily a hundred meters across, and the piled stones were far taller, standing over even the giant elementals that made their home there. Upon the stones, runes and pictographs glowed with inner light, some red, some green, some blue, and some white. They showed humanoid figures calling upon the elements, or wrote weird lines that Harry could not read.

They made their way along a causeway up a short hill, to where four massive elementals, each at least a dozen meters tall, were manifested upon four great thrones. One was made of fire, swirling and crackling, and above it hovered a being made of molten flame in the shape of a hunched figure. The next appeared to be made of howling winds, and over it was a cloud that seemed to have two eyes made of lighting. The next seemed to have erupted from the ground, a great boulder from the bones of the mountains upon which sat a spiky behemoth made of rock and glowing crystals. The last was a fountain, continuously spurting forth from the ground in a steady spray, another watery figure in the shape of a wave floating upon it.

Before the thrones stood Thrall, who had given up his armor for robes. About his neck was a beaded necklace, and beside him stood a brown orcish woman who bore a staff in both her hands. There were also tauren, trolls, and even ogres with Thrall, all robed and bearing various totems and icons of the elements. Mylra and Naboru made their way forward, with Impa and Ron trailing behind them. The joined the circle of the other shaman, and Thrall raised his hands into the air.

"Welcome, shaman, to the first Conclave of the Elements of the Earthen ring."

\/\/\/\/\/\\\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/

As Ron joined the circle with the other shaman, he felt the gaze of the great elemental spirits upon their thrones. They all radiated power and strength, a wild fierceness that could not be contained. He watched the others across from him, nodding to Za'pei in greeting. The old troll was flanked by a younger female, Ron guessed was his daughter. There were also a group of tauren, and together with the orcs the Horde races outnumbered the small Alliance contingent. Ron wondered for a moment why there were so many more shaman among the other races, but quickly focused back on what Thrall was saying.

"Here, in Outland, the elements have run wild, but are calming with the defeat of Illidan and the Legion. However, back at home, the spirits are restless, disturbed. What have you seen, Farseer?"

Nobundo nodded, leaning on his cane. "Indeed, the spirits are most disturbed. Something is causing them to disturb old boundaries. At first, I thought it the arrival of the Exodar, but now I think there is something more to it. Young Impa, tell what you have seen."

Impa stepped forward, and Ron eyed the young draenei woman appraisingly. He half wondered what Harry saw in here. Sure, she was pretty, in a weird sort of way, but she had horns for the love of ale.

"I have traveled across Bloodmyst and Azuremyst in my training. All over, the elements are straining against something. Some form of corruption. Yes, the Exodar's arrival had an impact, but it is deeper. Something within Azeroth stirs, driving the spirits to madness. The waters rage, and the earthquakes, as if wounded. And I have seem more and more corrupted elementals. Many of them storm spirits, blowing in from the north."

"Dis I have seen as well," Za'pei agreed. "De spirits are restless. Storms blow in from da north full o' rage and corruption. De earth trembles as somethin' dark stirs within it. Young Ronald, what have you seen?"

Ron forced himself to stand straight. "I'm just learning about the elements myself. I don't really know what's normal. I mean, I don't even know that I'm from Azeroth really."

"Not from Azeroth?" a young tauren with a large totem on his back asked. "Are you of Outland?"

"Er, not exactly," Ron looked to Mylra, who stepped forward.

"Ronald appeared here two years ago and was taken in by the Wildhammer clan. He's from some other world, brought here by some odd spell from his world. He's still learning of the elements, and I brought him with me as my adopted brother and trainee."

"Interesting," Thrall mused, rubbing his beard as he examined Ron. "A human, from another world? Did you know the spirits there?"

"No," Ron admitted. "I was training to be a mage of sorts. I didn't hear the elements until I came to Azeroth. They seem powerful and wild to me, but I don't know if they've changed."

"Ah, yes, you are like the child taken in by the Vindicators," Nobundo agreed, nodding his head. "But surely you have noticed something?"

"Well, the storms out of the North had had a chill edge to them of late, even in summer," Ron said hesitantly. "They also have...I don't know, an odd smell to them. Like the winds out of the Plaguelands."

"That is what I feared," Thrall said with a heavy sigh. "I have spoken to Highlord Fordring, and with King Wrynn of the Alliance. They fear the Lich King is mobilising his forces. This would have disturbed the elements."

"Dat would be very bad," Za'pei muttered, tapping one of his tusks. "Dat one is trouble. If he be corruptin' da elements demselves, dis cannot be allowed."

"I don't think that's all there is to it," the tauren said, shaking his horns. "Even as far south as Mulgore, the Earthmother weeps. I feel echos of the time when C'thun awakened."

"That one is dead, or sleeping still," Thrall declared. "I have the word of the Cenarion Circle that the Silithid still sleep."

"C'thun was not the only Old God," Mylra said, shaking her head. "We know there were others. And that they were once the masters of all the elements. Ragnaros was only the most recent of their servants that had to be stopped."

"The Old Gods, could there be one in Northrend?" Thrall wondered. "We should investigate this."

"None have ventured into that land for many years," Za'pei said, shaking his head. "It be cursed. Nothin' good can come from dere."

"Then perhaps I should agree to this expedition," Thrall mused. "Still, we must go over the signs of corruption, and how to counteract them."

The group discussed for long hours just how the elements were acting odd, and what problems they had encountered. Possible solutions were presented as well, such as the possibility of training other races in the shamanistic arts.

"If this human can learn the ways of the Earthmother, I see no reason others could not," the tauren stated. Ron had learned his name was Muln of the Bloodhoof, and that he was one of the advisors to the tauren chief.

"I mean, I guess I could try teaching some other humans about the spirits, but I don't really know many now," Ron admitted. "I live with the Wildhammer. The nearest human settlement is all the way in the ruins of Stromgard. But before I do that, I have a lot to learn meself."

"Hmm. Well, perhaps I can assist you with that," Muln said. "But first, I am weary from our travels. Come, join us in Garadar. Garrosh was telling me of a most interesting ale they brew here."

At the mention of ale, Ron perked up. "Well, I was going to stay with the Vindicators, but I'll have to try some of that. Me da always told me to try new things, especially if they were fermented."

Impa for her part returned with Nobundo to the Vindicar camp some distance from the walls of Garadar, but Mylra was more than willing to come try the brew. The ale turned out to be brewed from hops mixed in with mana thistle, and was quite delicious. The orcs seemed a bit leery of having Ron and Mylra in their camp, but Muln and the other tauren were very welcoming.

They stayed up long into the night, singing drinking songs and telling outrageous tales. Muln stood swaying on a table and sang a long ballad about a tauren farmer whose kodo got drunk eating fermented sweet potatoes, and the wild ride they took across the plains. The whole thing was hilarious, especially after half a dozen ales, and prompted Ron to jump upon and sing "There's a Fire in my Whiskey (and on my house elf too)." He only half remembered the lyrics, but by this point both he and everyone else were too far gone to really care.

The real star of the show however was Mylra, who astounded the tauren by matching Muln drink for drink, and seeming to keep ahead of him.

"Where...where doesh it all *hic* go?" Muln asked, peering into Mylra's empty cup. "How...how ish ya doin' that?"

"Ye've got to be stout o' heart to keep up with the Wildhammer, laddie," Mylra declared. She grabbed two more mugs of ale, and slammed them down on the table. "Now drink up, I'm winnin' this bet."

Muln eyed the cups warily, swaying in his seat. "No...no you win thish one. I can't...Shpirits. We've got to get up in the morning and *hic* continue the conclave."

"Come on Muln, you're not going to let a tiny thing like that beat you, are you?" a tauren woman named Siln Skychaser said, peering down at Mylra. "Why, she's not even bigger than my calf back home!"

"We dwarves teach 'em young how to drink. Why, Ron's already got yer husband Beram under the table," Mylra said, taking up her cup and draining it.

"Hesh not...hesh not beat me...yet," Beram protested. He tried to lift his cup to his lips, only to fall over backwards and begin snoring.

Ron let out a belch, then staggered to his feet. "Victory!" he cried, then blacked out.

Despite the pounding headache he had acquired the next morning, Ron was pleased to be able to rise with the sun and study with the master shaman assembled, even the Horde ones. After the previous nights contest, the tauren were more than happy share their knowledge, and listen to what Mylra had uncovered herself.

"The way you handle your water spirits is fascinating," Muln mused that morning. "In Mulgor we must coax them out, for they are cautious and wary. But for you, you must bind and tame them, for they are fierce and wild."

"Makes sense, Mulgor's a sort of desert, right?" Ron observed. "In the mountains we get a lot of rain, and that water has a great deal of power."

"Indeed. There are many ways to speak with the elements," Muln agreed. "And one must adapt your style to the spirits you find around you."

The conference was to last three days, but on the evening of the second day Garrosh rowed over on a small barge, racing forward with another orc, this one elderly.

"Warchief!" Garrosh bellowed, leaping out of the boat and racing forward. "Warchief, Orgrimmar is under attack!"

"What?" Thrall said, turning away from the circle. "Saurfang, what has happened?"

"The undead, Warchief," the elderly orc said, hurrying over. "They have attacked from the sea. They are making to siege Orgrimmar now. Our mages teleported me to Garadar to warn you."

"Arthas," Thrall growled, clenching his fist. He turned to the other shaman. "It appears I must depart early. I urge all of you to return to your homes. The spirits warned us of the calamity coming from the north. Now we must fight to free them from the clutches of evil."

Out of the barge came several trolls in robes. "You don' be worrin' warchief," their leader, a female with a painted mask on her face said. "We be gettin' ya home straight away."

The mages formed a circle, and Ron felt the spirits stir as they channeled powerful arcane energies into the center of their group. After a few moments of changing, a window seemed to spring into existence, revealing a city in the desert with large iron gates, which were being attacked by necropoli and waves of undead.

"How could you let this happen?" Garrosh growled, shaking his head at the sight. "A true Warchief would never be caught unawares."

"Now is not the time, Garrosh," Thrall snapped. "Come, we must away."

Soon all of the Horde party were through the portal, leaving only Ron and the three other alliance shaman.

"So, what do we do now?" Impa asked, looking around with a worried expression. "Should we go and help them?" She gestured to the portal, which lingered in the air.

"No," Nobundo said firmly. "Come. We must hurry back to our camp, and make for Shattrath. We have to return to the Exodar as soon as possible."

"What about us?" Ron asked Mylra, concerned. "It will take us a week to fly back to the Aerie through the portal.

"We'd best be stickin' with the Vindicators," Mylra said, shuddering as she watched a wave of ghouls assault the walls of Orgrimmar. "Now's not the time to be strickin' out on our own lad."

The Vindicators were already striking camp, though they were eying Garadar warily, as it looked like a kicked ants nest with guards racing about and alarm bells tolling.

"Impa, Ron!" Harry shouted, riding up on his elekk with Impa's in two behind him. "Mount up! We're leaving. What happened?"

"The Kinslayer has attacked Orgrimmar," Mylra said. "It looks like the Fourth War has begun. We just have to pray the Alliance hasn't been attacked as well."

Soon, the group was riding off, around Garadar and towards Shattrath and safety.


	11. The North Wind Calls II

When Ginny had been told by Master Shaw that she was going to see the cheesemakers, she had assumed that this was a euphemism for something. Instead, she was lead by the man through the still chaotic streets of Stormwind to a large shop near the city entrance that smelled strongly of cheese, and had a sign of an enormous wheel of cheddar at the entrance.

"You're serious?" Ginny said, pausing under the sign and looking incredulously up at the cloaked man beside her. "A cheese shop? Please. Why don't you take me to the docks and stick me on some boat for Northrend. I know how to fire a canon and fight a ship. Even if I'm just a deckhand I'd be of better use there than helping with moldy cheeses."

"You're here because you'd be wasted as another sailor or soldier," Shaw said, pushing Ginny forward. "I see potential in you. Potential I will not let lie idle."

Reluctantly, Ginny let herself be lead inside of the cheese shop. The interior was brightly decorated with paintings of cows, cheese, milk, and smiling farmers and their families. There were stacks of cheese wheels and trays of slices, from foul smelling bits of gooey stuff to wheels bigger than Ginny was tall.

"Ah, Master Shaw, what can we do for you today?" a smiling woman behind the counter said, waving to Ginny's escort. She looked to be about middle age, with a bit of fat on her and rounded cheeks that had dimples in them. Her dirty blonde hair was in a loose bun, and she wore a clean apron over a plain dress.

"I've found a new apprentice for Elling. One how needs a home, and looking after," Shaw stated "I'm to busy for that myself, and being a bachelor, not the proper guardian for a young lady anyway."

Ginny made a rude noise. "I'm hardly a lady. I'm a bloody pirate! I can drink a dwarf under the table, make an elf courtesan blush, and slit a man's throat before he notices all before I eat my hard tack."

The woman sighed heavily. "Another one of your projects, Mat? You know Elling and I are retired. We're cheese merchants now."

Shaw folded his arms over his chest and raised an eyebrow. "Oh, is that so, Elaine? So I should have someone else monitor our contacts in the Scarlets?"

Elaine sniffed and shook her head. "If I thought you had someone who was halfway competent I'd say yes, but if you sent anyone else the Scarlet's would tear them apart." She glanced down at Ginny, who was tapping her foot with a bored expression on her face. "Well dearie, if you're going to be with us you're going to need some new clothes. Wandering about with the royal sigile on your chest is simply the wrong way to get attention for a young lady."

"What makes you think I damn well want to stay here?" Ginny demanded. "I should go back to my ship and set sail for Northrend. Or better yet, find where the Captain is berthing and join her. She's taken perfectly good care of me so far, and I have no desire to turn into some lubber merchy getting fat on cheese."

"You sure she's suited for us?" Elaine said, cocking her head to one side. "She hardly seems the type."

"She's the one who sweet talked Vanessa Vancleef into sailing into Stormwind Harbor ahead of the Scourge attack. If she can survive a pirate crew at her tender age, she'll fit right in with the Fingers," Shaw said. He turned to Ginny. "I've work to do now. Mind Elaine and Elling. You've got a good foundation, but it's time you learned subtlety. Not everything is bravado and blazing guns."

With that, Shaw turned and left, leaving Elaine and Ginny alone. Ginny waited a minute until Shaw was well gone, then smirked at the merchant. "Well, I suppose I'll be leaving as well. I'll write from Northrend. That should be more fun than this. Ta-ta."

Turning on her heel, Ginny reached for the door handle, only to hear a loud thunk. She paused, eyeing the knife that had sprung from the door frame, between two of her fingers.

"I'm afraid you'll be staying with us, dearie," Elaine said, not having moved from behind the counter. "Now be a dear and bring me back my knife. I need to slice the rest of this wheel."

Gingerly, Ginny moved her hand away, then pried the knife out of the wood. It was rather sharp, though it appeared to be an ordinary knife for cutting cheese. She turned it flicked it at Elaine, aiming for the headboard behind her and hoping to scare the merchant. To her shock, Elaine snatched the knife out of the air with one hand. Ginny didn't even see her other hand hurle another knife, which snagged onto Ginny's borrowed shirt and smacked into the door, pinning Ginny by the fabric. The knife Ginny had thrown was soon back in the door frame, pinning Ginny's pant leg.

"That was very rude," Elaine said, shaking her head. "Now, are you going to behave yourself, or do I need to call my husband?"

Slowly, Ginny shook her head. "No. I believe I can behave myself."

Elaine gave her sparkling grin. "Excellent! Now bring those back over here and help me slice this wheel up. I'll have Ben go out and get some clothes for you while we wait."

Ben turned out to be Elaine's son, a man of about 25 who was unusually muscled and graceful for the son of a cheese merchant. He glided about with a dancer's grace, which was odd considering his broad shoulders and large frame. He returned an hour later with several dresses for Ginny, handing them over to his mother.

"One of the pirates huh?" Ben asked as he passed Ginny by. "Nice work with the Scourge. Only got a few of the little ones myself. Heard you helped bag a dragon and some abominations."

"What's a cheese maker doing fighting Scourge?" Ginny asked, frowning at the dresses. She hadn't worn a dress since...best not to think about the Other Time.

Ben laughed. "Girl, if you think I'm just a cheese maker you're either as blind as bat or as dumb as an orc. Open your eyes, or you won't last long here."

Ginny fumed when Elaine made her go change into the dress, but when she paused to examine herself in the hall mirror, she twirled about slightly, holding her skirts. The dress was plain brown work clothes with a white smock, but Ginny had to admit it felt sort of nice to be back in simple clothes. Almost like things were back to normal.

"Things will never be normal again. You're Gin the Red now. Not the stupid little girl who cried for her mum for months," Ginny growled to herself. She forced herself to turn away and headed back out to the shop.

That night, she met Elling Trias, Elain's husband and Ben's father. He was a fierce looking man with an eyepatch and a number of scars, but his ready laugh and slight gut ruined that impression. He clapped Ginny on the back and laughed at her insistence that she wasn't a merchant, she was a pirate.

"Well perhaps you've come to the right place. Though we'll have to see if you're worthy of old Mat's estime."

For three days, Ginny minded the shop, having to smile at customers and prepare trays of cheese for sale. It grated on her, but every time she thought of running away or sneaking off, she saw Elaine watching her and noticed that the woman always had knives near at hand. Gritting her teeth, Ginny made herself perform the inane tasks, and tried not to enjoy the semblance of a normal life too much.

All that changed, however, when Elling and Ben woke her up just as the cathedral bells chimed midnight.

"Get up," Elling, tossing a bundle at Ginny's head. She jerked awake and managed to snatch it out of their air, her knife in her hands as she fumbled for a pistol that wasn't there. "Get dressed in that."

"Are we being boarded?" Ginny managed, looking around wildly. Except she wasn't on a ship, so that was a dumb question.

"No. We're doing the boarding," Ben said, his smile glinging white in the dim illumination of the streetlamps through the window.

Ginny realized that both he and Elling were dressed in dark leather, with long black cloaks with cowls on them. She glanced at the bundle in her hands and found it was similar clothes, along with two pistols and a long dagger.

"Time to see if Shaw was right," Elling growled. "You've two minutes to be ready." He and Ben stepped out of Ginny's room, closing the door behind them.

It took Ginny only a minute to slip out of her nightgown and change into the leathers. It was soft and supple, easy to move in and the color of dark shadows. The cloak was made of mageweave, and would help Ginny when she slipped into the darkness, making her even harder to detect. She pulled on a belt, crapping the pistols and dagger into it, then slipping he knife into the padded boots. On a whim, she grabbed a red shirt, using the dagger to cut a red bandana from it, which she tied around her face. She stepped out into the hall, where Ben and Elling were waiting.

To her surprise, she found Ben's dagger at her throat as he swore, only for his father to put a hand on his arm. "She came in with Vancleef, Ben. Relax."

"Sorry," Ben muttered, sliding his dagger back into his belt. "It's just, you know. Thought she was one of them."

"I am one of the Defias," Ginny said, lowering her own knife from near Ben's gut. He started when he saw, then laughed.

"Didn't even see you pull that. Very nice," Ben said. "Maybe you're cut out for this after all."

"I didn't, Ginny said, flipping the knife over to show the rune engraved on the hilt. "Glub'thok did this for me. Comes right into my hand with a flip of the wrist."

Ben bent to study the rune, nodding approvingly. "By the Light, I'd pay a pretty sum for a knife like that."

"Time enough for that later," Elling said. "Come. We must be away."

Instead of leaving though one of the doors, Elling and Ben showed Ginny a trap door hidden in a storage room, which lead down into the sewers. Ginny didn't make a face at the smell: it was no worse than the bilges. They crept along silently for a few minutes, until they came out from a storm drain below the Valley of Heroes. There was a boat waiting, and they quickly and quietly rowed across the lake, where Elling stopped them.

"New girl, here's your first test. Get past those soldiers without being seen," the cheesemaker whispered, pointed to two guards at the gate. They were both alert and watchful, with lanterns held in their hands as they peered out into the night.

Ginny didn't reply, instead slipping into the shadows. She carefully snuck up behind the guards, then whispered a quiet spell she'd learned from Fred and George in another life. There was a wet, messy farting noise from one of the bushes and a putrid stench.

"What's that? Who goes there!" the guards drew swords and advanced on the bushes, casting about with their lanterns and probing with their swords. Ginny slunk past them, hiding in the shadow of a tree some distance from the gate. A moment later, Elias and Ben appeared beside her, startling Ginny.

"Not bad. The fart was a nice touch," Ben observed.

"Something I picked up. How did you find me?" Ginny demanded. "I was careful not to be seen by anyone or anything."

"We've done this more than once. You might be able to sneak by a half blind pair of guards, but it takes an inordinate amount of skill to get by Elias Trigg," the old cheesemaker said. "Now come on. We've far to go before daybreak."

The two men set a hard pace, and Ginny found herself puffing to keep up. She wasn't exactly out of shape, but jogging over rough country in the dark wasn't something a pirate trained for. She could spend hours aloft or haul line with the best of them, but hadn't spent much time ashore for hiking. The two let Ginny take a few breaks to catch her breath. They said nothing, which only irritated her further and made her press on all the harder. By an hour before dawn, they'd made their way to a small house near some fields south and east of Stormwind.

"This is a hideout for some of the more prominent remaining members of the Defias Brotherhood. These two escaped the Deadmines purge, but we've tracked them down and are putting an end to them," Elias explained.

"Hey, I'm a member of the Defias!" Ginny hissed, glaring at the two men. "What makes you think I'm going to help you murder them?"

Ben shrugged. "You can decide how to handle the targets. Know that they're murdering thieves who don't hold to any ideals but getting rich and killing. All we need is for them to stop though. End their operations here and bring in their thugs. You can do that by killing them, or finding another way. Up to you."

Ginny thought about that, then nodded. "Fine. But why are you two here?"

"In case something goes wrong, we pull your cheddar out of the fire," Elias explained.

"Babysitters. Lovely," Ginny grumbled. "Fine. I'll handle this. You two stay here and out of my way."

Ginny slipped her scarlet bandana back on and slunk around to an open window, where she listened for a few moments. After concentrating, she was able to hear low voices.

"I'm telling you Surena, it was her! Vancleef's daughter. She's joined up with Wynn," a male voice said.

"That doesn't matter, Morgan," a female voice, probably Surena, replied. "Vancleef is dead. His brat is nothing. We've heard rumors of them raising the banner in Booty Bay for a long time and that didn't change nothin' for us."

"Some of the old hands want to go join her. I think we should. This is a chance to really make the changes we want. Besides, Wynn doesn't see so bad. It wasn't him who sold us out after all."

"Yeah, only his nobles. But either way, we can't leave. We've got a good thing going here. With a new war on there will be even more traffic, which means more gold for us, and less guards to stop us."

"But we could mean something again! Be more than just petty thieves."

"Morgan, do you want to mean something, or be rich? Because-"

With one smooth motion, Ginny stood and aimed a knife at the female voice, then threw. She was satisfied when there was a shriek of pain as Ginny sprang threw the window with her dagger and pistol drawn. She pointed the pistol at the man who had to be Morgan, while Surena say in a chair clutching the dagger that was in her shoulder as blood spilled down her dress.

"Well?" Ginny said casually. "Do answer that question, Morgan. I'm dying to know. Or rather, she is. And maybe you."

"Who are you?" Morgan said, standing and knocking his chair over. He reached for a weapon but Ginny cocked the hammer of her flintlock back and shook her head.

"Ah ah ah. No weapons, or you get a new hole in your head. Now, answer the question."

Morgan swallowed, looking down at the bleeding Surena, who had gone pale and was trying to staunch the flow of blood with her hand. "Um, to mean something. We should rejoin Vanessa."

Ginny smiled and nodded, then pointed her pistol up at the ceiling. "Good answer. The captain's going to need more hands now that she's a lady. Go and round up your boys and girls. Let them know that the Brotherhood is back in business, and if they're smart, they'll all show up at the Stormwind docks tomorrow, hats in hand, and ask to join Vanessa on her cruise. You savvy?"

"Um, yes," Morgan said, nodding quicky. He made to move for the door, but Ginny stepped in his way, putting the barrel of her pistol in his chest.

"You run from me, you betray the Brotherhood, I'll find you. The Brotherhood is a blood oath bound fellowship. You break that oath, there is a price to pay. As Surena here is about to find out."

Morgan swallowed and nodded rapidly, and Ginny stepped aside. Morgan grabbed his cloak and ran out the door. Ginny turned to Surena, smiling sweetly. "I suggest you stop casting that spell. Otherwise you'll find that I have other poisons besides the one on the blade making your tongue all thick."

The woman stopped her muttering and went still, glaring at Ginny. "You have no right, I'm Surena Caledon, supervisor for the Brotherhood and-"

Ginny flipped her pistol over and struck Surena smartly on the head with the butt. The woman's eyes rolled back in her head, and she slumped forward in her chair, still bleeding. Ginny put a hand to her neck, feeling a pulse. She smiled and whistled loudly. "You can come out now boys."

Ripping a bit of fabric from Surena's dress, Ginny yanked her knife out and tied the makeshift bandage on to slow the flow of blood.

"Nice work," Elias observed, coming in through the open door. Ben was nowhere to be seen, but Ginny had a feeling he was tailing Morgan. "You've dealt with the problem, and secured us both a prisoner and potential recruits from the meatgrinder. Shaw was right about you I think."

"Thanks. Does this mean I don't have to keep selling stupid cheeses?" Ginny demanded. "Because I'd rather just hop on the ship to Northrend with Morgan and the rest of the crew."

Elias chuckled and shook his head. "Oh no, you're too good to waste as ghoul bait. No little Finger, I've got a lot to teach you. This job was easy. A training exercise. Elaine and I have a lot to teach you yet. But enough of that for now. Time to head on home. You can have the day off to rest, but tomorrow, you'll be back in the shop. It's time you learned what a cover identity is."

Ginny sighed, but nodded, cleaning her knife and holstering her weapons. At least it was better than dying of Plague. Probably.

\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/

Instead of heading back through Zangarmarsh, the group quickly made their way to Shattrath city. The city lay within the edge of Terokkar forest, but bordered the mountains as well. It was heavily fortified, with large walls and glowing crystals glyphs. It was clear though that the city had been recently rebuilt, and the rubble and detritus of the time the city had been destroyed by the Horde could still be seen.

"Behold, Shattrath City," Vindicator Maraad said as they made their way down a twisting canyon. "Once the capital of my people, and again a citadel of the Light."

"I can feel the Song from here," Harry said, closing his eyes and letting the soothing melody wash over him. "It feels as though there are many Naaru there though, not just one."

"Indeed," Maraad agreed. "There are three Naaru that make Shattrath their home. Of them, their leader, A'dal, is the most powerful. It is the wisdom of A'dal that we seek."

The gates of the city were guarded on the right by a draenei vindicator upon her war elekk, and upon the left by an elf magister with an arcane golem. Maraad frowned at the elf, but said nothing, nodding and greeting the vindicator.

"Much has changed in my absence, it seems," Maraad said quietly to the draenei gate guard, nodding to the elf who looked on with an impassive expression.

"Indeed. The blood elves have repented, and M'uru has reignited the Sunwell. The Prophet himself has offered the hand of friendship to their people," the guard answered.

Maraad turned, eyeing the blood elf. Finally, he nodded to himself and bowed. "May the light embrace you. Forgive my earlier rudeness."

The elf nodded stoically. "There is nothing to forgive. My brethren and I have much to atone for. Enter, and be welcome."

Impa eyed the elf distastefully as she rode past, but the other Vindicators murmured greetings or nodded, as did Harry.

"Not as if saying they are sorry makes up for everything," Impa muttered as they rode through the city.

"I know elves killed your parents," Harry said gently. "But Mylra talked about how Kael'thas and his followers were defeated in the Netherstorm. These elves are different. We shouldn't judge an entire race based upon the actions of a few. If we all did that, how would the eredar reflect upon the draenei?"

Impa grunted her response, her face hardening. Harry didn't press the issue though, turning to Ron as he rode Sharpbeak along the ground.

"Sure I can't convince you to return to the Exodar with us?" Harry asked for the second time.

Ron shook his head. "Nay. Ye'll always be me best mate Harry, and if'in ya ever need me ye've but to call, but me home is wit the Wildhammer now. I miss the Burrow and me family aye, but I've a family here now too. Perhaps one day I can visit ye though, or mayhaps ye can come to the Aerie one day."

"I'd like that," Harry said, smiling and nodding.

They made their way through Shattrath together, following Maraad's lead. The city was still in the process of rebuilding, and work gangs were everywhere. To Harry's surprise, he saw not just elves and draenei, but orcs, humans, and the other races of Azeroth. The only race he saw no sign of were the Forsaken. The Naaru did not tolerate such abominations in their holy city, and Harry was not sorry for it.

Most of the buildings were damaged in some way, and Harry saw arcane golems clearing the street alongside eleks and orcish workgangs. It was good to see the cooperation between the races as they worked to restore Shattrath to order.

"What are they thinking, letting elves and orcs in here," Impa grumbled. "They're the ones that destroyed Shattrath in the first place."

"'But for those that walk in the Light, all shall be forgiven. Bury the sins of your past, repenting and walking the Path of the Light, and you shall be made new in the Light,'" Harry quoted from the ancient Naaru scriptures.

Impa rolled her eyes. "You really think orcs and elves can walk in the Light?"

"All can walk in the Light," Harry said firmly. "Look at me. I'm an orphan from another world, and I've learned the ways of the light."

"Yes, but you're not an elf or an orc," Impa shot back. Then she sighed, shaking her head. "Sorry. I'm no anchorite or vindicator, Harry. I revere the Naaru, but the Light and I, we're not as close as you are. I just can't bring myself to forgive those who murdered my parents so easily."

Harry considered this as they approached the large temple at the center of Shattrath. "I can understand that. I don't know that I could ever forgive Voldemort."

"Huh," Ron said, rubbing his chin.

"What?" Harry asked.

Ron shrugged. "It's just...I didn't even flinch at the name. Voldemort. Just doesn't seem so scary when I've seen giant elementals and demons and such."

The conversation ended as they dismounted at the base of the temple complex. The main temple of Shattrath was one of the few buildings in the city that had been completely repaired, with new stone and glyphs added in such a way that it was hard to see where the original structure was and were the new began. It was built as an enormous dome with an open roof at the top, from which a pillar of light rose up into the torn sky. Here, even Ron and Impa could clearly hear the song of the Naaru, bold and sweet as it filled the air with light.

Leaving their mounts, the party trekked up the ramp to the upper level of the temple. There were many ancorites in the robes of the Sha'tari, but they were not all draenei. Many elves also wore priestly garments, and their eyes glowed not with the virulent green of the fel, but glowed with a warm golden light. There were also a few members of other races making their way to the temple, mostly humans and dwarves who shared the Faith.

At the top, two priests bearing censors passed incense over the party.

"Enter, and be welcome, child of the Light," the elf priest said, passing a hand in blessing over Harry's head. He nodded his thanks, bowing his head and saying a short prayer as he made his way into the temple.

Behind him, Ron and Impa were told; "Walk in the Light, and be welcome, children of the Spirits."

They both murmured their agreement and thanks, inclining their heads and making their way forward. Though they did not serve the Light directly, those who spoke with the spirits were recognized as champions of good as well.

Inside the Temple, Harry began to weep silently, so overwhelming was the presence of the Naara. He stepped to the side and knelt in reverence, along with many of the temple visitors. The sense of joy, peace, and love overwhelmed Harry, and he closed his eyes and gave thanks to the Naaru and the Light for all the things he valued in life.

Ron and Impa were not quite as affected, though they stayed reverently silent, waiting as Harry and the Vindicators finished their prayers and thanksgiving.

"It is not wrong to pray to the Light," Nobundu said softly as he and Mylra joined the two young shamans. "For what are the Naaru but a different kind of spirit? A more holy and otherworldly kind perhaps, but great spirits nonetheless. Would that all the spirits were so benevolent."

"Maybe, but it isn't for me," Ron said with a shrug. "I like a power I know I can tame instead of one I have to submit to."

After paying their respects, the group made their way into the inner sanctum of the temple. Inside, a choir was singing hymns of the light as petitioners knelt and prayed before the altar. Above the inner sanctum floated A'dal, the chief Naaru of the temple. It was massive, towering a good 50 feet above the floor it hovered over, and it's crystalline shards glowed with a warm light that filled the temple chamber. Around the edges, elves and draenei in plate stood guard in glowing plate, keeping a silent watch upon the faithful.

As Harry approached the altar, he felt the gaze of the Naaru upon him, and his heart leapt for joy. The song swelled within his heart, and for a moment he was once more overcome and had to kneel, basking in the radiant light.

 _Arise, child of Light. Come before me, that I might see your face._

Harry stood, coming before the elder Naaru. The gaze of the Naaru fell upon Harry and he smiled, blinking away tears.

 _You have grown much, young warrior. O'ros told us of your arrival upon this world, and of the visions of Valen. Now, however, I fear you must face your first great foe, and perhaps the mightiest._

"I'll do whatever you ask," Harry managed to say. "With the Light, I can face anything."

 _You have a good heart, Harry. But this is not a task to be undertaken lightly. You must journey back to Azeroth, and face the darkness that would engulf both this world, and the world of your birth. By saving this world, you may yet kindle hope for the other._

"What darkness must I fight?" Harry asked, reaching for the sword at this side.

 _He who was once a champion of Light: Arthas. The Fallen King must be stopped, his unholy hordes disbanded._

"You want...you want to to fight the Lich King?" Harry asked, a small doubt creeping into his heart despite the overwhelming presence of the light.

 _Not directly. You must go to aid other champions of light, and to learn from them. We send you now to one of the Light's most favored sons: Tirion Fordring. While it is not your destiny to slay the Kinslayer, you must learn how to face the undead, and the Lich King, and help to ensure his demise. You are yet young, but it is with the Crusade that you will find your true strength. It is in Northrend that you will reclaim that which was taken, and purify it to serve the light once more._

"I'll do it," Harry vowed.

"And I shall aide you," Maraad said, coming to stand beside Harry and resting a hand on his shoulder. "You will not face this alone, Harry Potter."

"I as well!" Impa said, coming forward defiantly. "Harry will not face this evil without me."

 _It is good that your friends wish to stand beside you, Harry Potter. Go, now. A way has been prepared for you. Return to the Exodar, and join those who march against the darkness in the north._

Harry nodded, turning away. He hesitated, looking to Ron and Mylra. "What about them? Should Ron come too?" he asked, glancing back at A'dal.

 _The young keeper of flame has another path to walk. Go now, Harry Potter, and carry with you the blessing of the Naaru. Call upon us, and we shall aide you in the hour of your need._

A golden glyph appeared on Harry's forehead, and his eyes glowed yellow.

 _Be at peace, young one. Though you shall walk through the valley of the Shadow of Death, you shall fear no evil, for the Light is with you._

A portal opened in an alcove before Harry, showing the inner sanctum of the Exodar where O'ros slowly rotated. Swallowing, he pressed forward, Maraad and Impa half a step behind him.


	12. The North Wind Calls III

Ron watched as Harry left, shaking his head. You bound the elements to you. You didn't bind yourself to them. That was folly and madness. They were primal forces, not something you wanted to be under the sway of. That path led to madness.

 _Approach, Ronald Weasley. I bring you glad tidings._

Ron looked to Nobundo. When the old shaman nodded to him, he reluctantly stepped before the floating wind chime.

"What do ye want with me?"

"Ron," Mylra said softly, poking him in the back. "He's a great bloody elemental lord at the very least. Show some respect lad. Ye would no talk to a greater spirit like this back home."

"I mean, greetings, A'dal o' the Naaru. I am Ronald Weasley, of Clan Wildhammer. Ye seem to have taken a shine to me friend Harry. I do hope ye have no sent him off to his death."

 _Light willing, it will not be so. But we are here to discuss your own fate, Ronald of Two Worlds. You may not walk the path of the Light, but the Light shall guide you, nonetheless. My tidings are thus: You shall see your family once more._

A lump rose suddenly in Ron's throat. His accent suddenly softened, though a hint of the Wildhammer brogue could still be heard. "My family? You mean, mum, dad, Ginny, my brothers?"

 _Your sister, at least. The others in time, if you act now, and swiftly. Ronald. A darkness lies in the heart of Azeroth. A darkness that has designs upon not just Azeroth, but Earth as well. It is this darkness that saw fit to bring about events that lead to the poisoning of Earth. Do you know why you were brought here?_

"I was brought here?" Ron asked, stunned. "It wasn't just some sort of accident?"

 _There are no accidents, Ronald. I am but a servant of the Light, no matter how great I may appear. But I know for truth that the Light guided you to Azeroth by the hand of another servant, and has revealed it's will to me in this: You must put the sleeper to rest once more, and find the hidden king._

"What?" Ron asked, confused. "That doesn't make any sense."

 _Darkness rises. The Lich King is not his own master. His mind is bent by shadows. Those shadows have many plans, many designs that would lead to darkness for all worlds. You too must journey to Northrend. Find Brann Bronzebeard: tell him that the sleeper must be put to rest once more, and he must find the hidden king. If not, darkness will engulf your world, and destroy your family._

"I...guess I can do that?" Ron said, looking to Mylra.

The other dwarf was frowning, and stepped forward. "The hidden king? Brann Bronzebeard? What does that mean?"

 _I can say no more. Go to Ironforge. There, you shall find Brann. Join him, and aide him. He shall require those who can bend the spirits to their will._

"Ron is too bloody young to be going on some mad adventure. The lad's only 14, wee for a human or a dwarf. Send me instead," Mylra declared.

"Mylra, I have to go!" Ron said desperately. "This could be a way home for me! Hermione, Harry, they like it here. And spirits know I love you like my own sister. But...if there's a chance, I'd take it, just to hug my mum one more time and tell her I love her, or to have my dad tell me a silly bedtime story or even to have the twins turn my teddy into a spider. Please."

Mylra looked at Ron, pained, but then bowed her head. "Very well." She turned back to A'dal. "I don't suppose ye have a portal handy for us do ya?"

 _The magisters outside will see to your needs. They await you by your mounts. Make haste. Time is of the essence. The spirits of Northrend must be called to order. The hidden king must be found. The sleeper must once more slumber. Go._

Ron and Mylra turned to Nobundo, who stroked his chin tendrils, then nodded. "Do as he says. A'dal is wise, and powerful. I will stay here, and rest, for a time. I still honor the Light."

 _The Light has never forsaken you, my brother. Though what befell you was meant for evil, the Light shall turn it all to good._

Nobundo smiled then, and sat upon the floor, closing his eyes. "Yes. Rest. Go now, young ones. Find your king, and put evil to rest."

Ron and Mylra departed, leaving Nobundo to meditate, his eyes half closed as for the first time in years, the burdens of time and pain lifted. As he meditated, he saw two shadowy figures approach A'dal, one short, the other human sized, but both hidden in dark cloaks.

"Thank you. Perhaps that will be enough," the taller figure said, its voice muffled by its hood.

 _You are welcome, child of fate. We must all serve the Light. We must all hope that the dark future can be avoided._

"Fate is already fluctuating. I don't know, do you feel alright? Have we changed to much?" the short figure said, turning to watch where Mylra and Ron had gone.

"I'm still here." The taller figure stretched out an arm, revealing a gauntleted fist. "We can only pray they survive, or an even darker fate will doom us all. But we have other tasks to attend to."

"Yes, yes, we can't stay now anyway," the shorter one said, withdrawing small vial of golden dust from its robes. "Too dangerous. If things don't happen in just the right way, we could destroy everything!"

 _Fear not, scion of the sands. The Light is with you, and shall guide you. You have not mistepped. Keep upon your task. The fate of two worlds rests upon it._

"Changing destiny is a fickle thing. We can never know all the consequences of our actions," the taller one proclaimed. "We must use caution, or all our efforts will be for naught."

"Oh dear, oh dear, I'm almost out! We don't have many trips left," the short one fussed, examining the vial.

 _Let this journey be upon me, young one._

The little one gasped. "But if you ran out, then-!"

 _My time is already appointed. The Light ordains when I too shall pass into the next life. Nothing can change that. Peace be with you._

The two figures vanished in a swirl of golden magic, and Nobundo frowned. He felt the spirits grow restless, then calm as A'dal's presence soothed even them.

 _Fear not my son. All that is, is, and all that shall be, shall be. The Light wills it, and it must be so. In the end, we shall all go into light, or shadow. Our choices guide this. Those two have merely made their own choice, and helped others maket theirs as well._

"Something great and terrible is happening, is it not?" Nobundo asked. He started to rise. "If that is so, I should return to work. There is much to do."

 _There is time enough for that later. You will be needed, Nobundo, Caller of Spirits. But for now, rest. You must be prepared when the time comes._

The portal to Ironforge felt the same as the Dark Portal: a bit hair raising, but like stepping through an open door. They found themselves at the gates of Ironforge, looking up a the great carved gateway. The frozen peaks above them had more stone buildings, each seeming to grow from the stone beneath.

However, they did not have long to take in the majesty before entire gateway was a bustle of activity, as dwarves, gnomes, and various mechanical creatures raced back and forth. The gryphons and their riders had to hurry off to the side as a parade of steam tanks chugged forth, their engines roaring loudly as they went by with columns of heavy dwarven infantry alongside them. Overhead, gryphon riders and flying machines flew in patrol patterns, keeping a wary eye out.

"Where'd you two pop out of?" a dwarf in a guards uniform demanded as he came forward.

"Outland," Mylra answered. "We were sent here to find Brann Bronzebeard and give him a message from A'dal of the Naaru."

"Naaru? Never heard o' such a thing," the guard growled. He eyed the gryphons, then shrugged. "Well, ya look like riders o' the clans sure enough. Bran's party is down in Kharanos where they're staging for Menathil."

"What's going on?" Ron asked, looking back and forth. "Did the Scourge strike here as well?"

"We had a bit o' the plague, but we took care o' that. No, the Scourge hit Menathil a bit, but we're mobilizing to support King Wrynn of Stormwind. King Magni has declared a full military expedition to go forth to find out what happened to Muradin. And, in all likelihood, avenge his death."

"They I suppose we'll be joining them," Ron said, nodding slowly. He and Mylra mounted their Gryphons and soared off down the mountainside.

It was about a half hour's ride on gryphon back to Kharanos, and they passed over a steady stream of dwarven and gnomish military might, from gnomish spider walkers to dwarven sharpshooters.

Kharanos was normally a sleepy little town before the gates of Ironforge that acted as a waystation for travelers. Now, however, it was crammed with legions of soldiers and was a mad nest of chaos. Brann's camp was at the southern edge of the town, set up close to the tree line. Unlike the military camps, which were all ridgid rows of tents and carefully staked out into sections, this one was a sprawling mess that looked like someone had haphazardly dumped a bunch of tents and wagons out of a crate and had simply set them up wherever they had fallen.

"What is it now?" a harassed looking gnome demanded as soon as Mylra and Ron landed in a small clearing near the camp. "We already told you military types we're not leaving, we were here first! For the love of gears the king's brother is leading us so he out ranks whatever general is yelling about it THIS time!"

"Actually, we're here with a message for Brann from A'dal of the Naaru," Mylra said. "And we'd like to join your little expedition."

"Really?" the gnome eyed them suspiciously. "You're not going to rant about the placement of our wagons or how we're clogging up some highly important maneuver?"

"I swear on my gryphon's feathers we've no such intention," Ron promised. "Please, we need to see Brann. It's urgent."

"Oh very well then," the gnome said. She sighed and pointed off towards the center of the encampment. "Just look for where the most yelling is. It's probably Brann."

Leaving their mounts at a makeshift nest from hay that had been strewn around the clearing, Ron and Mylra made their way into the camp. Mules brayed and people shouted as they raced back and forth, seemingly moving supplies about at random.

"NO YE DAFT IDIOT, WE NEED THE SUPPLIES FIRST OR THE DAMN MULES WON'T HAVE ANYTHING TO CARRY!"

"That sounds like the loudest yelling," Ron observed.

Mylra nodded, and they made their way to a giant mount of boxes, atop which a dwarf in rugged leathers and a wide brimmed hat was waving his arms, attempting to direct traffic.

"Brann Bronzebeard?" Mylra called.

The dwarf turned and glared at her. "Oh what does Magni want this time? I told him, I'm not leading a legion, I'm after the very secrets o' the titans themselves!"

"We're not from your brother," Ron shouted over the noise. "We're from A'dal of the Naaru. He has a message for you, and we want to join your expedition."

"A'dal? The Naaru? Does he know something of the titans?" Brann hopped down the boxes to stand on one above Ron and Mylra, planting his fists on his hips and glaring down at them. "Well, spit it out then, I don't have all day."

"A'dal told us to tell you to find the hidden king, and put the sleeper back to rest," Ron said nervously. "We don't rightly ken what that means."

"Hmmm," Brann stroked his beard. "The hidden king? That could be...no, he's long dead by now. But if he isn't... wait, did you say the sleeper?"

Ron and Mylra nodded uncertainty.

"Come wit me," Brann ordered, hurrying off. He yelled over his shoulder as he ran; "Ye damn idiots better get that mess sorted out by the time I get by or by my beard I'll use YOU for mules!"

Brann let them through the maze of tents and wagons to a large tent, emblazoned with the sigil of both the Clan Bronzebeard and the twin crossed pickaxes of the Explorers League. Inside books and scrolls lay scattered about a desk, cot, the carpet, and various crates and boxes. Brann began rummaging through them, muttering to himself.

"The sleeper...the sleeper, I know I read about that…ah ha! Here it is!" Brann took out a musty old scroll, unrolling it and whispering to himself as his eyes darted back and forth.

"There!" he proclaimed, pointing. "'Within Ulduar sleeps the many maws of death, with in the halls the dreamer lies in slumber. Wake not the dreamer at your peril, or it shall consume all with its thousand maws.' It goes on for a bit like that, the world getting eaten and dying and such. But the dreamer...it sounds like what the Silithid unearthed in Ahn'Qiraj. C'thun. The eye that sees beyond madness."

Without waiting for an answer, Brann put the scroll back and hurried to his desk, pulling out a battered leather journal. He paged through it for a bit, then nodded to himself. "Yes. Muradin wrote of such. The servants of the sleeper. The faceless ones, those that the Nerubians served. Spider like beings. I've long postulated that there was once a global empire of insect like beings that predated the trolls, beings that worshiped the Old Gods, the ones the titans sealed away."

Brann snapped the book shut and looked up. "So, you say that A'dal, the most powerful of the Naaru we know of, warned you to find the hidden king and the put the sleeper back to rest?"

"That's what it said," Ron agreed hesitantly. "He also said you'd need the help of shaman to calm the spirits of Northrend on your expedition."

"That's likely," Brann agreed. "I've gathered the greatest explorers and scientific minds, but I don't have many with an aptitude for the more spiritual aspects of the world. Priests, shaman, druids, mages, they're not really attracted to this line of work. But we sure could use your help. You up for coming? You seem a bit young, and, well, human to be a proper shaman."

"Ronald of the Aerie is my adopted younger brother and my apprentice," Mylra declared. "And I assume you'd no deny I'm a proper shaman of the clans." Lightning echoed outside, and Mylra's eyes sparked with power.

"Oh stop it," Brann growled. "Yes, yes, I'll no deny you look the part, what with your kilts and plaid and all. And I'm certain ye can both sling fire and lightning with the best. Very well. We'll find a place for ye. We leave as soon as we can."

"When's that?" Ron asked.

Brann shrugged. "I've managed to secure us two ships and an airship. The trip to Menathil will take us at least 10 days, then voyage will be a few weeks for sure. It will be a month, maybe more, before we even arrive in Northrend. Once we get to Northrend, who knows. We might find ourselves neck deep in undead and have to fight our way all the way to the titan ruins at Ulduar. So, who knows."

"Well, perhaps we have time to write to ma and da then," Ron said, swallowing. "Let them know I might have found a way home. I would like to see them again, but…"

"They'll understand, Ron," Mylra said, smiling and putting a comforting hand on his shoulder. "And they may cry, but it will be tears o' joy."

Ron nodded, but that evening, he took time to compose a note to Douglas and Isla.

 _Dear Ma and Pa_

 _The Conclave of the Elements was exciting to say the least. Saw some great big elementals, learned some new spells for calling spirits, but that's not why I'm writing you. As you've probably heard already, the Alliance is going to war with the Scourge. Mylra and I are with Brann Bronzebeard and his expedition to head to Northrend. I know you think I'm too young for this, but I'm not going just to fight. Really, if I could avoid all that I think I'd sleep better at night._

 _While in Outland, a wise and powerful light elemental called A'dal of the Naaru told me I might be able to see my birth family again if I went to Northrend. So, I'm going, and Mylra's coming to help._

 _You two have been great. I love you both like a new set of parents. And I love the Aerie as well. But, if I can find a way back home, I'm going to have to take it. I'll risk whatever it takes. I've got to find some lost king and put a sleeper back to bed. It all seems like a load of nonsense, but this is the first time I've ever had a chance. I'm sorry, I hope I do get to see you again someday to say thank you and work the forge with da again._

 _Oh, it also seems I'm not the only one here from Earth. My friends Harry and Hermione are here too, and safe. They want to stay on Azeroth though. Harry never had much of a family and Hermione seems to be a few feathers short of a chick if you know what I mean. She always was an odd bird._

 _I'll write again soon. Address any return letters to the Bronzebeard Expidition._

 _Love, your son,_

 _Ronald_

 _\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\\\/\/\/\/\\\/\\\/\/\/\/\/_

Life at Hogwarts proceeded much as it had once before, absent a student or two. Professor Lupin ended up finding an odd old rat in the castle one day thanks to a map he confiscated from the Weasley twins, and Sirius Black had been set free. However, Lupin's lycanthropy had still come out thanks to the Defense Position Curse, and he and Black were currently off in Majorca, some said mourning the loss of Harry Potter who had vanished along with five other children three years ago.

Still, it was the Halloween feast, and the Triwizard Tournament was an exciting prospect the entire school was looking forward to.

Well, almost the entire school.

"I'm telling you he's back," Igor Karkaroff hissed to Severus Snape as they slunk through the shadows of the corridors late at night. "Something changed about the Mark last year. It went cold! Like ice gripping your heart."

"Impossible," Snape sneered. "He vanished after the Azkaban breakout. No one has heard anything from him or those since then, not even I, his most trusted servant."

"Perhaps no longer," Karkaroff muttered. "I'm telling you, something is wrong. And this tournament is just the situation he would use to make his comeback! He always did have a flair for the dramatic. Look! Touch your Mark! It is like ice!"

Snape shrugged, maintaining a nonchalant expression, but he was deeply disturbed under the surface. His Mark was like ice lately. He would have to talk to Lucius again. After the Dark Lord showed up and took back his Diary, Lucius Malfoy claimed to have heard nothing, but….

"This is not the place to discuss this," Snape told Karkaroff. "Come to my office tomorrow. Until then, keep your mouth shut."

"Fine," Karkaroff snapped, and hurried off away from Snape, who resumed his patrol. Once outside the castle, Karkaroff did not return to his ship in the lake, instead heading for Hogsmeade. He needed something to help him relax, and he had finished the last of the spirits onboard the night before.

Making his way to the Hogshead, where he took a bottle of firewhiskey to a darkened corner to nurse. Most of the other patrons ignored him; this wasn't his first visit, and he had a reputation for hexing first and asking questions later.

Once his bottle was gone, Karkaroff started the short walk back to Hogwarts. He had not gone far when an icy chill permeated the air, despite it being late March. He huddled in his cloak, and took out his wand, looking around in concern. Suddenly, his left arm seemed to turn to ice, and Karkaroff cried out in pain, dropping his wand as he fell to his knees, clutching his icy limb.

"Ah. Igor. So good to see you once more."

Karkaroff looked around, a chill running through his veins. "No. No you're dead. This is impossible!"

"Oh, yes, I am dead," the voice said, and from the side of the path, Karkaroff heard a clicking sound.

He scrambled for his wand, letting his frozen limb hang limpy as he stood, ready to fight. "Show yourself! Crouch! You're dead! A ghost! You cannot torment me!"

"I am no mere ghost," the voice growled, and the clanking sounded again from behind Karkaroff.

He spun, conjuring a shield and readying another spell. His jaw dropped. Before him stood a pale skinned man with eyes that glowed an icy blue. His features were coated with a thin layer of frost, which rimmed the dark plate mail he was wearing. "Crouch? What are you? An inferini? No matter. Reducto!"

Crouch raised a blade that dripped darkness, and a shimmering green shield enveloped him. "Ah, Karkaroff. So predictable. I have looked forward to this moment."

Losing his nerve, Karkaroff attempted to Apparate, only to have his mark flare up again. He gasped in pain, dropping his wand once more as he hunched over, unable to even think any longer.

"Yes. You feel the pain I felt. The pain I knew for years," Crouch Junior said as he came over, his blade resting atop Karkaroff's neck.

"I don't understand. You were killed when your fathers home was raided months ago. I saw you buried. It was the second time you were supposed to have died!" Karkaroff gasped, glaring up at the black armored Death Eater.

"I did die. But Death is only a temporary setback for those who serve," Crouch declared.

"Voldemort is gone! Dead!"

"Dead? Yes. Gone? No. But he is not who I serve. You too shall serve our Queen."

"I'll die first," Karkaroff spat.

Crouch smiled, but it never touched his glowing blue eyes. "That was the plan. Do scream for me. I enjoy that ever so much."

At first, Karkaroff tried not to scream, but as the agony wracked his body he couldn't help it. In the end, he died bleeding from every poor as his eyes melted from his body, leaving only tortured flesh and bones behind.

Crouch plunged his blade into the remains, then withdrew it. A moment later, Crouches body shuddered, the rose. Slobber dribbled from his lips, and his sightless eyes looked about as glowing green magic filled them.

"Come, Igor. You have been given a gift. You shall never know it, perhaps, but as a ghoul, you shall serve, as shall all others. Come. We have work to do. The Death Eaters must now partake of the meal set before them. You are merely the first."

The slavering ghoul followed after its master as the soul of Karkaroff screamed silently, unable to escape the prison his body had become. The Death Knight walked off into the Forbidden Forest. There was more work to be done that night.

Draco Malfoy had always thought he was destined for greatness. When the supposed Chosen one had vanished three years ago, he had rejoiced and laughed at others. The disappearance of Harry Potter and his three friends should have paved the way for Slytherin glory, starting with their victory in the house cup that year.

But that old fool Dumbledore had given Harry and the other three Gryffindors a ludicrous amount of points for "opposing darkness itself" and "achieving greatness through sacrifice" whatever that idiocy meant. And so, Slytherin had been denied its right, and Potter had won even when he wasn't around.

The next few years instead of greatness, Malfoy achieved only mild notoriety. He hungered and thirsted for power and fame, a drive the feeble minded around him lacked. That was why he was here, in the forest: He was going to achieve greatness, at any cost. Even if his father didn't approve. He said it was time for Draco to grow up. Well, Draco would show him. He would show them all.

"I'm cold," Goyle complained.

"Me too," Crabb whined.

"Stuff it you two," Malfoy hissed. "We're here to meet with the minions of the Dark Lord. I'll not appear as some sniveling brat."

Personally, Draco was fairly certain they'd be meeting with his father and his friends. Draco felt very clever for having manage to contact the Dark Lord's servants by sending an owl to Bellatrix Lestrange. Why no one else had thought of just doing that Draco didn't know, but the reply had said to meet the emissary here at midnight.

Just as Draco was feeling very good about himself, the forest went silent. The insects and night birds hushed. Even the wind stopped rattling the branches of the trees. A minute later, a chill sank into Draco's bones. He shivered, both from the cold, and from the icy hand of fear that gripped his heart.

"M-m-maybe this wasn't such a good idea, Draco," Goyle said, shivering and looking around, his small piggish eyes wide in terror.

"You idiots, this is what we came for!" Draco hissed. He had been thinking the same thing, but now that Greg had said it he obviously couldn't agree. He was the leader, and all the ideas had to be his. "Now kneel before the Dark Lord! Quickly!"

The three youths sank to their knees, peering up occasionally in terror, and wondering what fate was about to befall them. There was a shuffling sound, and a horrific figure covered in blood and with its entrails spilling out sprung into the clearing.

Draco nearly wet himself and screamed in terror, until he realized it was Igor Karkaroff, that fool of a headmaster from Durmstrang.

"What is this?" Draco snapped, coming to his feet with his wand gripped tightly in his fist. "Some sort of sick joke? Who conjured this inferini?"

"That is no infernie, boy," a voice said. The tone was colder than the grave, and a strange echoing sound accompanied it. "That is the ghoul of Igor Karkaroff. He refused to serve in life. So he shall serve Her in death."

"Her?" Draco demanded, glaring as the figure in dark armor entered the small clearing they were in. "You mean the Dark Lord, don't you?"

"Lord Voldemort is now merely the majordomo of our Mistress, the Lich Queen," the man said. He stepped into a patch of moonlight, and Draco saw he had pale features, with eyes that glowed an eerie blue.

"Crouch?" Vincent gasped. "But you're dead! I saw it! The ministry killed you!"

"Indeed, boy. I am dead," Crouch Junior said. "But the Mistress has granted me unlife eternal. Is that what you seek? Power over both life, and death? The power to bring this world to its knees, where it must serve you?"

Draco eyed the ghoul of Karkaroff, which was sniffing the air and slobbering. "You mean, I could make anyone I didn't like into something like that, and it would have to do whatever I said?"

"Yes. That power and more, will be opened to you," Junior declared. "All you must do is swear an oath, and drink of the cup of unlife."

Draco imagined transforming that idiot Dumbledore into a ghoul, and grinned wickedly. "I'll do it."


	13. Secret of Valiance Keep I

"I don't like this," Captain Vancleef muttered, pacing back and forth on the deck.

Harry and Impa turned to look at the young woman, who had her hat off and was running her hands through her short hair nervously. The thick fog in the air gave her a ghostly appearance, and Harry shifted nervously, his mail armor clanking as he did so.

"Damned fog," she growled. "Ripsnarl! Sounding!"

"Ten fathoms!" The huge beastman called back. His shadowy form was almost invisible in the fog, but his voice carried well enough.

"I still don't like this." The captain stood still for a moment, then shook her head, seeming to decide something. "Clear for action! Those damned Scourge could be hiding in the fog!"

A drum began to sound, and Harry raced to fall into line with the other vindicators while Impa ran up to the poop deck in preparation to support with spells.

"This is it, soldiers!" Harbinger Vurenn shouted as he raised his sword. "Our long months of preparation on the Exodar have come down to this! We will begin our purge of the Scourge from our new home here, now!"

Harry gripped his sword and shield as bells rang and sailors shouted. Cannons rolled out and were loaded, and human marines with muskets and rifles lined the deck, with the vindicators next to them, ready to shield their allies with magic and metal.

And then, nothing happened. Minutes dragged by, and the ship continued silently through the fog, occasionally bumping into a hunk of ice.

"Captain?" one of the ships officers said, his tone confused.

"SIlence!" Ripsnarl ordered. "I hear something."

The ship once more fell silent, save for the creaking of beams and the lap of water. Then, off in the fog, a horn sounded.

"One of ours?" a sailor asked hopefully.

A sudden chill ran down Harry's spin as every hair on his body stood on end. He sensed something in the fog. Something cold, and dead.

"Harbinger, do you sense it?" Maraad's voice called.

The draenei expedition leader nodded solemnly. "Undead, in the fog. Closing fast."

"Fire!" Vancleef ordered. "Make them duck!"

"For the Alliance!" the marines roared, firing off a musket volley.

"For the Defias!" the sailors screamed, and fired off a broadside.

At first Harry heard only splashes, but then something struck wood and flesh, and there was an explosion and inhuman bellows of pain in the fog. Harry tensed as more horns sounded in the mists, and bellows could be heard accompanying them.

"Reload!" Captain Vancleef roared, drawing her dagger and pistol. "Stand by to repel boarders!"

There were several lound snaps, and spears hurtled out of the fog, impaling themselves in the boat, or in the defenders. Several marines screamed as they were suddenly dragged off the ship, and one vindicator's lifeless body was yanked into the mists as well.

"Cut those lines!" Harbinger Vurenn shouted, using his sword to hack at the rope in the gunnel near him.

Harry tried to cut a rope near him, but his sword made little impression in the wet cable. Suddenly it went taught, and a giant swung out of the mists on the line, leaping onto the ships deck.

"Gjør krav på deres sjeler!" the thing bellowed, causing Harry to fall back. It was tall, taller than even Vindicator Maraad who was over 7 feet tall. It's skin was greenish and covered in seaweed and barnacles, and its black hair was damp and tangled.

Before it could use its massive axe to split Harry in half, a bolt of lighting sprang from the poop deck, and the beast roared in pain. Harry called upon the Light and sprang forward, driving his sword home into the giant's thigh, then followed up with a blast of holy magic. The thing groaned and fell to the decking, dissolving into seafoam and kelp.

However, it was not alone. More giants swung up the cables to attack, bellowing war cries and hefting harpoons and axes. One swung a decapitating blow at the marine next to Harry, and he felt the Song of the Naaru swell within him. Stretching out his hand, he shouted along with the song and a shield sprang into being around the woman. The giant's axe bounced off harmlessly, leaving him staring slack jawed and confused. Harry used the moment to ram his shield into the creature's kneecap. The giant sank to his knees, and the marine pointed her rifle at its head and pulled the trigger, blowing the beast's head to smithereens and turning him back to foam and flotsam.

All around the ship, battlecries rang out, and the captain shouted orders. Harry saw a sailor down, bleeding from a deep cut in his chest. He reached out and laid a hand on the man, filling him with the Light. The wound closed, and the sailor groaned, getting ot his feet.

"Thanks, lad," he managed, picking up a cutlass and jumping back into the fray. Harry stayed back, casting blessings upon the crew and other vindicators and healing what wounds he saw. He wasn't strong enough to stand up the to giants, but his holy magic was more than useful. Still, by the time a second horn sounded in the fog, there were fallen on both sides. The cables holding the ship went slack, and silence once more filled the air.

"Get the wounded below!" the captain roared. "Get that rigging repaired! Helm, do you have control!"

"Aye, captain!"

The captain spat over the side and nodded. "Then we make for Valiance Keep! Marines, back to your posts! I don't want more of those damn Kvaldir coming after us!"

"Kvaldir?" Harry asked one of the sailors who was servicing a cannon.

The goblin grimace and nodded. "Yeah. They're raiders mostly. Hit settlements up North. Never used to run into them since I mostly sailed the South Sea out of Booty Bay. But ever since Captain Vancleef and us got mixed up with you Alliance types we've been tangling with them almost every trip north. They ain't natural."

Harry glanced at a puddle of seawater with kelp floating in it on the deck, and grimaced. "They certainly don't seem to be. They feel dead."

"Legend has it they're the ghosts of drowned sailors," the goblin said, leaning on the cannon as he peered out into the mists. "Those who are forever bound to the sea, held captive by Neptulon."

"They aren't just more servants of the Scourge?" Harry asked, confused. "I thought all of Northrend was overrun with his minions."

The goblin spat over the side and shook his head. "Nah. Northrend's a big place bucko. I mean, sure, the Scourge controls the whole place more or less, but even they don't have enough bodies to fill a whole continent. The Kvaldir were here a long time before the Lich Bitch set up shop in Icecrown though. Who knows. Maybe they'll be here long after he's gone too."

It was another hour before the fog lifted enough to see more than a lance length beyond the ship, and it continued to clear as the sun rose higher. Still, as they had since the day before, a full contingent of the vindicators and marines stayed on alert aboard the _Defiant_. The waters around Northrend were far from friendly.

Around midday, the lookout shouted that sails were visible in the distance.

"Horde ships off the port bow!" he called.

"Signal them," the captain ordered. "Give them a salute."

Everyone stood tense, waiting, until the lookout called, "They're saluting us back. And...warning us about the Kvaldir."

Captain Vancleef grunted. "Let them know we tangled with them not four hours ago. Then wish them fair winds."

The Horde ships stayed with the Defiant, keeping a respectful distance until they sighed three Alliance warships on patrol. Then the Horde patrol turned about, keeping to their own waters.

"Feels bloody strange that," an Alliance marine muttered. "Working with the Horde?"

"The Scourge is a threat to everyone," Harry responded. "We must all work together to end their threat once and for all."

The sailor eyed Harry oddly, but didn't say anything and moved on.

After exchanging signals with the Alliance ships, they continued on and soon after sighted Valiance Keep. As they approached, Harry saw many ships unloading supplies and men, as well as hastily erected walls and defenses. Sentry's watched as the Defiant weighed anchor at the docks, keeping their cannons pointed at them until it was verified the ship wasn't controlled by the Scourge.

"Are you sure they're not demons?" one of the guards demanded of Captain Vancleef, pointing to the vindicators. "They damn well look like that tree humping bastard and his lot that we fought on Hyjal in the Third War."

"You speak of Archimonde the Defiler," Harbinger Vurenn rumbled, taking a step forward.

The guard nodded, putting a hand to the sword at her belt and taking half a step back.

"He is the sworn enemy of our people," Vurenn said, shaking his head. "We are both of Argus, but the Defiler slaughtered thousands of our people. You could say he was our version of the Kinslayer."

"Oh." The guard looked back and forth between the Harbinger and Captain Vancleef.

Vancleef rolled her eyes. "Dammit Lieutenant, we need all the bloody help we can get in this LIght forsaken war. Are you really going to turn aside a contingent of paladins, and battle hardened veterans at that?"

"He doesn't look very battle hardened," the guard complained, pointing at Harry. But she relented. "Fine, fine. Report to General Arlos at the keep. It's about time for the daily assault anyway."

"Daily assault?" Harbinger Vurenn asked.

The guard snorted and started to walk away. "When you hear it, you'll know. Damn spiders."

"Maraad, with me," Harbinger Vurenn ordered and started down the docks toward the half finished keep.

Harry looked to Maraad, who nodded, and Harry hurried after him, Impa tagging along.

"Warm welcome," Impa observed, looking pointedly at a group of guards who were staring sullenly at the draenei as they embarked.

"Yeah, what's wrong with everyone?" Harry said. He looked around, seeing clusters of guards and workers sending them annoyed glances.

"Something is unwell here," Maraad rumbled in a low tone to Harbinger Vurenn. "I sense a dark presence."

"Could it be the Scourge?" Harry asked.

Vurenn halted by the entrance to the keep, looking around. He shook his head. "Perhaps. But the foes without these walls are not the true enemy we face." He strode forward and Harry looked around, wondering what the Harbinger meant as he and Maraad presented themselves to the sullen gate guards.

"Spirits, he's right," Impa muttered, lingering at the entrance. Harry paused, looking back at her, and Impa ran forward, her brow furrowed. "Look at the groups."

Harry stuck his head out the door. He saw groups of humans, dwarves, and even a group of gnomes. "I don't get it."

Impa sighed. "Come on, let's see what this General Arlos has to say."

The two of them hurried to catch up to Maraad and Vurenn, and they made their way up a series of stairs. The guards they passed muttered to themselves, but none of them stopped them. Harry increasingly felt as though something was very wrong here, but couldn't put his finger on it. Part of it was the constant sense that the undead were surrounding him, but that was a more distant sensation.

"The general is busy," a guard in a lieutenants tabard informed them when the reached the war room near the top of the keep.

"This is urgent," Vindicator Vurenn stated. "My men need to disembark and be given quarters. I need to conference with the general to find the best use of my men in his forces.

"He's busy," the guard repeated, glaring up at Vurenn.

"I see. Maraad, I think this man has yet to say his daily prayers," Vurenn said, not breaking eye contact with the lieutenant.

"What? I-" the Lieutenant never finished, as Maraad extended a hand, a radiant circle of light forming on his palm as the symbol of the Naaru glowed upon his forehead.

"Repent, and walk in the light," Maraad said gently. The Lieutenant let out a sob and dropped to his knees, praying desperately for salvation. The other guards stepped back, shocked, and Vurenn opened the door and strode through, Harry and the others hot on his hooves.

"-last damned thing I need is a bunch of space goats mucking up my ranks!"

Harry's eyes widdened in shock upon hearing the slur, and his jaw actually dropped when he saw that the man saying such had the golden lions of a general upon his shoulders. Were other humans really so blind and hateful?

The general continued his rant, pacing back and forth and not seeming to notice the newcomers to his command room. "These damned blue bovines think they can waltz right into my command and-"

A man in a noble's suit with a monocle next to where the general was pacing coughed into one hand.

"What?" the general snapped, looking up and breaking stride. He saw the draenei waiting patiently, standing serenely with neutral expressions on their faces. The general's face reddened, and he glared at them. "You! I thought I told the guard to turn you away!"

"He realized the urgency of our message," Vurenn said in a calm tone. "I am Harbinger Vurenn of the Exodar. I believe that your equivalent rank is commander. I am here leading a contingent of Vindicators to aid in the war effort against the Scourge."

General Arlos' eyes narrowed. "I see. Well, Vurenn of the Exodar, thank you for reporting. Dismissed."

Vurenn did not move. "My men need billeting, and I believe that we should discuss how best to employ them. They are heavy troops, but can act as dragoons. All are trained paladins; we sent none who could not call upon the Light in battle, as it is the Scourge's weakness."

"Your men have no idea about our tactics," Arlos snapped. "I have no need for those who do not know how to fight as the Alliance does."

"We have trained extensively with both the Sentinels and with the Theramore Legions," Vurenn said. "I am given to understand that Stormwind employs similar tactics."

A blood vessel pulsed in Arlos' forehead, but before he could reply, the nobleman stepped forward, putting a calming hand on his shoulder. "My lord general, if I may? I believe we can see to bilietting these... draenei. As for tactics, surely they are wearied by the journey, and must rest before taking to the field. We can consider this at a later time."

The general continued to glare daggers at Vurenn, but nodded. "Fine. Get them bilited Talbot. I want then out of my sight."

Vurenn bowed. "As you command, general." With that, he turned to Maraad. "Get the men off the ship and to the barracks. I will deal with the general."

Maraad slammed a fist to his breastplate, then turned and walked off, Harry and Impa behind him.

"What's a human boy doing with your kind?" Harry heard the general bark before the door closed behind him.

To Harry's surprise, when they left, the lieutenant thanked Maraad. "Thank you sir. Cleared my head that did. I haven't felt right in weeks. It's these damned assaults by the Scourge. Come every day they do, take a few more of us."

"War is a heavy burden for us all to bear," Maraad said. "Fear not, my brother. The Hand of Argus stands with you. We will not let this world fall to darkness. Walk in the Light."

The Lieutenant saluted. "Walk in the Light."

Later, Harry and Impa were idling outside the barracks, cleaning their weapons and sitting in the cold sunlight.

"Haven't you noticed it yet?" Impa whispered to Harry as she oiled up her mace.

"Noticed what?" Harry asked absently, running a cleaning cloth over the metal of his blade.

"We make a very odd couple," Impa told him.

Harry looked up, flushing. "I, well, I mean, we're-"

Impa rolled her eyes. "Look around with your eyes, Harry."

Harry did look around, frowning. "What? How do we stand out? I mean, you're the only draenei out right now, but that's sort of to be expected I guess."

"No, Harry. Really look at all the groups. Notice anything?"

Harry looked around, studying the others out and about. There was a group of human laborers working to repair a damaged section of the wall, a group of dwarven engineers talking quietly over a pot of stew as they ate, some gnomish pilots and mechanics standing near their flying machines in a tight huddle, and a cluster of human guards who sat across from a group of dwarven markesmen.

"The races...they're not mixing," Harry observed. "They keep looking at one another. And us. They don't seem happy."

"Everywhere we've gone, the Alliance has always worked together," Impa whispered, glancing around furtively. "The humans, elves, and dwarves all embraced us. The gnomes went manic to study our tech and we practically had to pry them off of us. Sure, I've gotten stares from humans before, but always a bit of awe and wonder. Not hatred or mistrust. This is really weird. Something is wrong."

Harry nodded, looking around and frowning as he tried to figure out what it all meant.

"Perceptive, isn't she, Fred?"

"Too right, George. To be expected I suppose."

"Well, she is a bit young, isn't she?"

"Womanly insight. You just wish you had some don't you,George?"

"Well H-e noticed it too. Didn't take him long did it, Fred?"

"Not as quick on the uptake as her. That's how it always is."

"Oh come off it. You're trying to trip me up and you know it."

Harry's eyes went wide and he stood, looking around frantically. "Fred? George?" he called, trying to find the red headed Weasley twins. If Ron's brothers were here, he would be so-

"How long do you think it will take him to think to look up, brother mine?"

"Well now that you said that, not long at all. You idiot."

Harry immediately spun and looked at the roof of the barracks, and his heart sank. "Oh. Sorry. You're not who I was thinking of at all."

Up on the roof sat a young man and a young woman, both dressed in robes. While their voices had sounded very similar, their features were very different. The female had plenty of freckles and bright red hair the color of dying embers that was cut in a short bob. She was grinning wickedly, her blue eyes glinting in a slightly manic expression. Her short robe had a tartan pattern and she had on a leather harness over them. Upon her belt hung a dagger and a fiery glass sphere. She was tall and looked athletic, and her bare legs kicked back and forth as she sat on the edge of the roof.

In contrast, the male fo the pair had pale blonde hair and silvery eyes, with heavy lidded stare that peered into Harry's soul. He was clean shaven, and a long pale scar ran from his right check under his jaw and down his left shoulder. His hair was long and pulled back into a ponytail, and his robes were a deep blue and in a vaguely oriental style. He had a staff with a jade figurine a top it balanced on his legs, which were still and drawn up to the eves of the roof.

"What makes you think you knew us?" the woman asked, peering down expectantly at Harry.

Harry blushed. "It's just...I knew two brothers named Fred and George. But, well, obviously you're not them."

The man suddenly pushed off of the roof, but instead of falling the 12 feet to the ground, he floated gently down upon a cloud, his staff held in the crook of his arm. "And what's so obvious about that?" he demanded of Harry.

"Well, for one thing you don't look anything like them, and she's a girl, and you're not twins," Harry said, pointing to the woman.

"Ha! Shows what you know!" Unlike her companion, the woman launched herself into space, and slowed herself with a burst of flame that scorched the ground where she landed. She planted her hands on her hips and leaned down towards Harry. "We are twins! And by saying that George here doesn't look like them, you implied that I do, which by extension means that he should look like them as I'm obviously the pretty one."

George rolled his eyes. "Of course you're the pretty one, Fred. You're the girl. He's a boy. He's going to think your looks are superior even when they're clearly not because you're arse ugly."

Harry blinked. "I...don't understand what you're saying, but sure. Sorry, let me introduce myself. I'm Harry Potter, Vindicator in training of the Exodar. This is my friend and boon companion Impa of the Exodar."

"Hasn't cottoned onto it yet has he?" Fred asked Impa. "Give him a year or two more, then trip him into a hay bale somewhere and get busy. I'd hate for-"

George rammed the butt of his staff into Fred's gut. "Point to me, you did it first. Pleased to meet you, Harry and Impa. We are George and Fredrika of the Kirin Tor."

"You two are very odd," Impa declared, coming to stand beside Harry. "And really, I was told that it was best to wait until you humans are at least 16 before any activities that involve tripping or hay bales should take place."

Fred looked up, her eyes watering. "No point, I wasn't!" she gasped. "And really you can get started any time as far as I'm concerned. Better for everyone involved really."

This time, George tried to rap Fred on the head with his staff, but she suddenly vanishing, reappearing on the other side of Harry and Impa with a pop.

"Anyway," Harry said, shaking his head slowly. "You two noticed it as well? That none of the races are mixing."

"Of course I did," George said, his tone impatient. "I'm not an idiot."

"I noticed it too," Fred snapped.

"Well, are you going to do something about it?" Impa demanded, looking back and forth between the two strangers. "Or are you just her to make snippy comments?"

"Snippy comments mostly," Fred declared. "And no, we can't really do anything."

"Why not?" Harry asked.

"Because that sort of thing is more your baileywick, isn't it Harry?" George said, raising an eyebrow.

"Ha! Point to me!" Fred declared. George groaned and smacked his forehead with one hand.

Harry and Impa shared a puzzled look. "Well, if it's my 'baileywick,' what should I even be doing? I'm just a squire," Harry said.

Fred opened her mouth, but George slammed his staff into the ground. There was a playful squeal, and an elemental of some sort with a strange jade mask for a face and large blue eyes bubbled up out of the ground with a splash. "You know our mandate. We've said too much already. We should leave."

"You're the one that said, 'ooo, look, aren't they cute together we should say something.' What's the point of all this if we don't even try?" Fred demanded.

George seemed to consider this. "Fine. But all we can say is this: not everyone is as they seem. That's why we're here, actually. To find the ones that don't belong."

"Look in a bloody mirror then, you ponce," Fred muttered.

"Point to me," George said with a half smile.

"The one's that don't belong?" Harry asked. "You two certainly don't seem like you belong. Everyone else here is so sullen. You two stand out like sore thumbs."

George paled, and Fred laughed. "Oh he's good. Always knew he would be. But I think we'd best go before my brother has a conniption. Ta-ta!"

With that, Fred blinked back to George's side, and the two walked away, the water elemental bubbling playfully in their wake.

"That was very odd," Impa said, scratching her horns and frowning at the two mages as they made their way over to the still under construction inn. "But they have a point. Something is wrong, and not everything is as it should be or as it seems. What's causing the division?"

"Let's go talk to Vindicator Maraad," Harry said. "Maybe he can help us."

Maraad was inside with the other vindicators, talking quietly to them. As Harry approached, he noticed that several of the vindicators looked worn out and drained, as if the Light was failing them. "Ah, Harry, Impa, I was just about to go looking for you. I do not think it wise for you to wander about alone."

"We ran into a pair of mages," Impa said. "They had some very odd things to say, but they did have a good point."

"Oh?" Maraad said, frowning. "What did these mages tell you?"

"That not everyone was as they seem," Harry said. "We've noticed that all the races are segregating themselves. That doesn't seem normal. Something, or someone, has to be causing it."

"I agree," Maraad said gravely. "The Harbinger has given Yalaa the task of looking into things. He and I are in agreement: this smacks of demonic influence. The scourge are known to have employed Dreadlords in the past. Perhaps one is disguised here."

"A dreadlord?" Harry said, his hand going to his sword as his face paled. "But they're of the Legion!"

"Indeed," Maraad said. "Which is why I do not want either of you going out alone."

"What if we're together?" Impa asked.

Maraad rubbed his chin tendrils, then nodded. "That will suffice. Both of you have some skill at arms now, and have the ability to call upon spells to aide you. Watch one another's backs. Impa, you may not be a Vindicator, but you know our code: We are to protect those who cannot help themselves. The Alliance needs us here, now. Call upon your spirits, and we shall call on the Light. Perhaps we can suss this out."

"We'll get started right away," Harry said eagerly.

"No," Maraad said, shaking his head. "Let Yalaa collect some information first. Dreadlords are cunning and very dangerous. Should one realize we are hunting him, he could slip away or lay waste to this camp. For now, sit, eat. Let us rest and recover our strength from our crossing."

They sat and ate a meal of vegetable soup with hard biscuits. Not exactly appetising, but it was filling enough. Maraad had all the Vindicators check their food for plague or chemical agents, but no one found anything. They were just finishing when a horn sounded outside, then another. Soon, a bell was tolling loudly.

"To arms!" Maraad roared, standing and grabbing his giant crystalline hammer. "The enemy is at hand!"

No one had taken off their armor, so all of the draenei and Harry raced outside, forming up in the square and ready for deployment. Harbinger Vurenn appeared a moment later, stomping across the ground, his face calm but his body tense.

"Stand by, Vindicarate," the Harbinger ordered. "We are to provide...healing support. If needed."

"We are not dedicated healers, Harbinger," Maraad answered. "Though all of us can cast at least basic healing spells, we are more skilled in the art of battle. Put us on the wall: we can shield our comrades and blast the undead as they attack."

"The General feels that our talents would be best employed in the back line," Vurenn stated, coming to stand beside Maraad. His hand gripped the hilt of his sword so hard his knuckles cracked.

Around them, men and woman shrieked and died as unseen foes beyond the walls fired missiles at them or yanked them off the walls with shots of sticky rope like webbing.

"They are dying!" Harry protested. "Harbinger, sir, we must aide them!"

The Harbinger did not answer, instead staring at the walls, his eyes roaming over them. "They felt they did not have a section suitable for draenei. Look at how they fight. Humans there, dwarves in another place, gnomes in yet another. It is foolishness. The human troops lack the gnomes and dwarves ranged firepower, but the gnomes do not have the humans reach in melee, and the dwarves lack mages to support them. Idiocy."

"He ordered the Vindicar to stand down?" Impa queried. "The Draenei Vindicators, specifically?"

Vurenn cocked his head to one side, glancing over his shoulder at Impa. He pursed his lips, then nodded. "Indeed. As you are not of the Vindicarate, I suppose his orders do not apply to you, shaman."

Impa immediately raced off, and Harry was hot on her heels. "I'm human!" he called back to Vurenn. "Can't be mad if I go help the other humans!"

"Light go with you, Harry Potter," Vurenn called. "You will need it."


	14. Secret of Valiance Keep II

Impa was the first atop the walls. She immediately raised her hands to the heavens, her maces held up high. Lightning fell from the sky and crashed into her with a deafening roar.

"For Argus!" Impa screamed, whirling forward and slamming into a spider like creature that had just crested the wall. It went flying back with a shuddering boom, and Impa chanted a quick spell, dropping down several small totems at her feet. The totems shuddered and popped upright as the spirits bound within began to emanate aura's of power. Nearby guards weapons were suddenly enhanced by the wind itself, and their bodies hardened against the icy weapons of the Scourge.

For his part Harry let the flow through him, radiating out an aura of protective magic that would offer some protection against mundane weapons. He followed after Impa, raising his shield to ward off the hail of missiles the Scourge were throwing at the walls.

"What are you doing up here?" one of the human guards growled at Impa as she ducked down behind a parapet as another icy blast from a Scourge mage hit the walls.

"Saving your sorry hide," Impa replied. "Are you really going to complain about this?"

"Ready?" Harry asked, crouching beside Impa.

She nodded. "Shock and awe. Go!"

Together, the two stood, Harry placing a barrier of light between them and the foe. Impa unleashed the lightning stored up in her weapons, knocking several spider like creatures off of the wall. A bunch of spidery silk shot out at Harry, but was stopped by his magic. Impa then burned away the silk with the help of a fire spirit, allowing Harry to back off and both to duck again.

"I suppose not," the guard muttered, still crouched in the same place. "At least one of you is human."

"Are any of you wounded?" Harry demanded. "We both can heal any minor wounds."

Many of the guards were injured, and Harry and Impa made their way along the wall, bolstering defenses with spells and healing the injured, while Impa used her fire and lightning to knock off spider creatures. They were at the end of the wall when a shriek came from above, and gargoyles descended from the clouds, claws outstretched to seize guards and knock them off or haul them away.

"Light blind you!" Harry cried, casting a spell at the nearest cluster of gargoyles. The beasts shrieked and shuddered, then focused on Harry, diving for him and ignoring all others. Harry braced himself, raising his shield and calling upon the Light again to strengthen his stance. The gargoyles hovered over him, raking at him with talons and battering him with their wings. Harry struck back with his sword and slammed at them with his shield, keeping them at bay, and distracting them from Impa.

"Duck!" Impa shouted, and Harry dropped down into a crouch. An instant later a deafening boom echoed as the air crackled with electricity as an arch of lightning slashed through four gargyoles. One went down, but two more fell upon Harry as another streaked passed him at Impa. Harry raised his shield and called upon the Light, while Impa lashed out with flames, coating her weapons with fire and striking at her assailant. She managed to knock one down just as Harry cracked the wing off of his and send it plummeting to the ground below.

Before Harry could deal with his second, there were more cries from on high, and additional gargoyles descended. Impa lashed out with lightning again, but both she and Harry were tiring.

"There are too many!" Harry cried, desperation in his voice as he bashed at the gargoyle he was still fighting with using his shield.

Impa cried out in alarm as more gargoyles came after her, raising her maces to ward them off.

Just then, a woman's voice shouted, "Suck on this!"

Fire and ice slammed into the gargoyles, as the twin mages from earlier teleported onto the battlements. "Tally ho!" George shouted, and his water elemental sprang into being, its jade mask crackling with power. It launched out bolts of icy water at bullet-like speeds, while George froze the wings of the gargoyles with a spell, sending them crashing from the skies.

His sister raised her blazing orb and blew, a stream of fire engulfing the gargoyle that had been after Impa.

"Need any help, old man?" George asked Harry, coming up next to him as Harry struck at the gargoyle with his sword.

Harry grunted, then drove the point of his sword home, calling upon his remaining strength and letting the Song of the Naaru flow through him. A blast of holy energy struck the gargoyle, and it's stone skin cracked as it fell to the ground.

"Yes, thank you," Harry managed breathing hard.

"Together now," Fred told Impa. "On three! One, two-"

"Three!" Impa roared, sending a blast of fire at a pair of swooping gargoyles. Fred added a fire blast of her own, and the gargoyles shrieked and plummeted, their stone skin warping in the heat.

"Stand back you two," George ordered Harry and Impa. "We'll handle this."

"Thought you didn't want to get involved," Fred teased.

"Stuff it. You like killing Scourge as much as I do," George ordered. Together, the twins unleashed a storm of fire and ice, clearing the ground below the walls near them and causing several sink holes the spider things had been climbing out of to collapse.

"Wow," Harry said, leaning on the wall and struggling to catch his breath. "Why didn't you come up here and help sooner?"

"Familial disagreement," George said frostily, refusing to look at Harry.

Fred winked at him. "He didn't want to see you get disemboweled a-anyway, old man."

"Why do you keep calling him old man?" Impa demanded, setting down a new totem that called forth a soothing water spirit. Harry breathed out a sigh of relief as he felt the slow trickle of water rehydrate and reinvigorate his body.

Fred and George both flinched. "Um, got to go."

With a pop and a flash, they both vanished.

"They are so weird," Harry muttered.

Impa nodded seriously. "Everyone in this entire place is mad."

Despite their help, the guards were grudging in their thanks of Harry and Impa. Once everyone's wound were tended to, they climbed down the walls to find General Arlos himself lambasting Harbinger Vurenn.

"-insubordinate space goats with no ability to follow-!" the general was shouting.

"General sir," Harry said, coming to attention and saluting, despite his desire to blast the man.

The general whirled, his fist raised as his face went beat red, but Impa spoke first.

"You said no draenei vindicators on the walls, yes?" Impa demanded.

"That is exactly what I said!" the general hissed, coming up loom over Impa. This did not work very well, as though she was yet young, Impa had reached most of her full growth, and draenei tend to be rather taller than humans. Still he, was much wider than the slender shaman, and he bristled up at her. "You disobeyed orders! Give me one reason not to back you back on that damned pirate ship and kick you out of my command!"

"I am no vindicator. I am a Shaman of the Earthen Ring," Impa stated, folding her arms over her breasts and glaring right back at the general. "I am not even in Harbinger Vurenn's chain of command. I am here as a personal favor to a friend."

"And I, in case you did not notice, am not draenei," Harry said. He almost added a "sadly" in there, but refrained.

The general whirled on Harry, and did a much better job of looming over him as he was half a head taller than the 14 year old boy. "So you claim to be under my command as a human, then?"

"No sir. I serve under the Vindicarate and Harbinger Vurenn," Harry answered. "But as I was not forbidden from aiding your men, I saw no reason to hesitate to do so."

Arlos glared down at Harry. "Do it again, and I'll have you put in the stocks." He whirled on Harbinger Vurenn. "Control your men, or I'll have you put on the next ship to anywhere. I told you I'd find a place for you draenei. And when I do, you can either do what I say our get the hell out of my command."

With that, then general turned on his heels and paced away to where the nobleman Talbot was standing and waiting for him. The noble seemed to try to calm the general as they walked back to the keep, but everything he said seemed to just rile the general further.

"I think this confirms our suspicions," Vindicator Maraad said, stepping up beside Vurenn.

The Harbinger nodded. "Indeed. We shall have to begin our sweeps quietly. Come, though. You two look dead on your feet. Excellent work. You may have angered the general, but you saved lives."

Harry and Impa stumbled back to the barracks, stripping out of their armor and most of their clothes and crawling onto their cots, passing out almost as soon as they lay down.

"Psst. Hey! Impa!"

Harry groaned and turned over, half opening his eyes.

"Psst! Come on, I know you're awake!"

Impa stirred, sitting up on her cot. "Huh? Wazzat?"

Harry saw a freckled face peering in the window of the barracks, half obscured in shadow but still recognizable as Fred.

"Come on! I need to talk to you! Come out ide, quick! George will notice I'm gone soon!"

"What is it?" Harry said, yawning and sitting up. "Another attack?"

"Go back to sleep old man," Fred said in a gentle, warm tone. "Just some girl talk, OK?"

Harry looked to Impa, who was struggling to slip a tunic on over her undergarments. He flushed and looked away. "Er, you gonna be alright?"

"I'll be fine," Impa said, pulling on some hose and grabbing her cloak. "Go back to sleep."

Harry lay back down and closed his eyes, but didn't manage to drip back off. What had Vindicator Maraad said?

"Impa!" Harry gasped, sitting bolt upright. "The dreadlord! Don't go anywhere alone! She could be-"

But Impa was gone. Harry felt panic rising, and struggled into his own tunic and trousers, stumbling outside as he struggled into his boots. He looked around frantically, trying to find where Impa and Fred had gone, but it was dark, and the flickering torches didn't add much illumination. He was about to cast a spell of illumination when a snowball struck his shoulder.

Whirling with his bare sword in his hand, Harry frown George eyeing him, tossing another snowball in his hand.

"What do you want?" Harry snarled. "Where's Impa?"

"Probably still talking with my sister," George answered, flicking the snowball in Harry's direction. He batted it away, glaring at the mage. George sighed. "Look, I let her sneak off to have her little pow wow. I need to have a talk with you myself. Damn the consequences."

"What are you on about? Are you a dreadlord? Are you working for one?" Harry demanded, slowing edging toward George.

The mage laughed. "A dreadlord? That's not your problem, at least not here. Good guess though, and I imagine you'll have much the same problems. No, come, we have to talk. Impa's fine. Fred would sooner die than let anything happen to her again."

"Again?" Harry asked, not lowering his blade.

George grimaced. "Ugh. Nevermind. Come on."

Harry slowly followed the mage around the back of the barracks, keeping his sword in his hand. Somehow though, he didn't think the mage was going to hurt him. Oddly enough, he reminded him a great deal of someone he knew. Surely not the Weasley twins though, he was far more serious.

"What is this about, George?" Harry demanded when the mage came to a stop near the wall.

"Hmm? Oh, call me Fredrick. Or Fred. Really, I've always thought that was my name."

"Then why did you say you were George?" Harry said, exasperated.

"Old habits die hard," the mage said.

"Whatever. Look, what do you want to talk about? And what does your sister want with Impa?" Harry demanded.

George shrugged, leaning against the stone masonry of the wall. "Probably the same thing I want. To change things, just enough."

"Change what?" Harry demanded.

"Fate," Fred (or George) answered. "You talked to A'dal, right? What did he tell you?"

"I...how do you know about that?" Harry demanded.

"Khadgar, a mage of the Kirin Tor and my teacher. He's close with A'dal. You could say he sent me to help you, in a way," the male mage answered with a shrug. "But really, listen closely. I don't have much time. Talk to Vancleef. She's an expert at the sort of situation you're in right now."

"Captain Vancleef?" Harry said, a puzzled look coming over him. "What does she have to do with anything?"

"A great deal, I hope," Fred said, his eyes going unfocused as he gazed at something that wasn't there. "But you never know. Fate is a fickle thing. Anyway, get her help. Don't let your 'dreadlord' escape. He's a part of finding what was lost and fixing what was broken. That's what you were told, right?"

Harry nodded slowly. "What's your game, George, or Fred, or whatever your name is?"

"The same as yours, I think. To save those I love and protect this world," Fred answered. "And all others."

"All others? George, Fred, whatever, who exactly are you?" Harry demanded, slightly raising his sword.

"The Twin of Ice, son of the Flame," the mage answered. "I've said enough. Too much, perhaps. Do find what was lost. And Harry, never lose it. Never give it away. Perhaps if you had held onto...well, again, I've said my piece. Fare thee well, Harry Potter. We shall meet again. Perhaps then, you will know why I love you so."

Harry's eyes went wide, and he stared in shock as Fred casually walked past him. By the time Harry managed to regain his composure and turn, there was nothing. Harry shivered as snow began to slowly fall from the sky, and hurried back to the front of the barracks. To his surprise, Impa was waiting for him.

"Did you talk to George?" Impa asked, standing with her cloak drawn about her and shivering slightly.

Harry nodded, then shook his head. "I mean, I talked to the male mage. He said his name was Fredrick. Which is really odd."

Impa chuckled. "Yeah. She told me to call her Georgina, that that's what I'd always called her. Didn't make any sense really."

"No," Harry agreed. "They're very, very strange. But he knew about A'dal."

"Really?" Impa asked, raising an eyebrow. She shook her head. "Come on, let's get back to our room."

When they were back inside, Harry sat down on his bunk, his eyes unfocused as Impa took her cloak off behind him and got under her covers. "You know," Harry said. "He said he loved me."

Impa went still, and after a moment asked in an odd tone. "Oh?"

"Yeah. I mean, I don't get it. I don't even know him. It felt like I should though. He seemed sort of familiar, somehow. But he said some odd things. Acted like he knew me, knew that I wasn't from Azeroth," Harry said.

"And do you...love him?" Impa asked, her tone hesitant.

Harry half turned and then quickly looked away, as Impa was once more only in her underclothes and was only half covered by her blanket. "I don't think so. Certainly not like a lover, that's for sure. But...maybe like a distant relative? I don't know."

"Hmmm. Well, that makes what Georgina or whoever she is told me even stranger," Impa said, rustling her blankets as she lay down.

Harry pulled his own covers over himself and looked over at Impa. "Oh? What's that?"

"Not to let you name our child," Impa said. Then she snuffed out the lamp with a snap of her fingers, leaving Harry to stare in shock at the darkness.

The next morning they were woken by another alarm gong. Harry and Impa raced out, pulling on their armor and formed up with the vindicators.

"What is it?" Harry asked, pulling on his left gauntlet as he looked about wildly.

"Dragons," Harbinger Vurenn informed him. "They found two dead dragons near our barracks.

"Dragons?" Impa asked. She looked around. "Aren't they supposed to be very large?"

"These were smaller," Vindicator Maraad said, coming over. "A drake and a dracanoid. Black, with odd markings. Something of the nether about them."

"Undead?" Vurenn asked.

Maraad shook his head. "No, certainly not. Corrupted somehow I think. Is not the black variety of dragons supposed to be most wicked?"

"So I have heard," Vurenn said, rubbing his chin. "They were meddling with the netherdrakes in Shadowmoon Valley. But what are they doing here?"

Further discussion was interrupted as General Arlos came striding out of his keep in a rage. He bellowed and waved his arms, and soon the two dead dragons were dragged out from behind the barracks. One was covered in great burns, the other had a wing and leg frozen and shattered.

"Dragons! In my keep? Dammit all these have to be servants of that blasted Lady Prestor or Onyxia or whatever she was. And they showed up right at the same time as those damned space goats!"

"Now, now, sire, let us not jump to conclusions," Counselor Talbot said soothingly as he hurried up alongside the general. "The timing is suspicious, yes, but perhaps there is another explanation."

"I can see none!" Arlos barked. He glared at Vurenn. "You and your men are confined to quarters until further notice! And that human brat and the female fire caller. Get out of my sight!"

With that, the general started hauranging his guards, turning his back on the draenei.

"Sir, I need to go back to the _Defiant_ , first," Harry whispered. "I'll be right back."

"The _Defiant_?" Vurenn said, raising an eyebrow. He shrugged. "Very well. See to it you are not caught. I believe General Arlos is in deep in the thrall of a dreadlord, and we must find a way to free him, soon."

Harry hurried off, with Impa hard on his heels. "Did he tell you to do this?" Impa whispered as they made their way to the docks.

"You mean 'Feorge'? Yeah," Harry said. "Why?"

"Because his sister told me to talk to Captain Vancleef as well. Didn't actually consider doing it, but those marks on the dragons...Fire and Ice."

"This whole thing is increasingly odd," Harry agreed. "But we've got to do something. Whatever is wrong here, it's our duty to cleanse it in the name of the Light."

The Defiant was still docked, as the ship was being repaired of the damage it had suffered in the Kvaldir attack and being resupplied still. When Harry and Impa requested to see the captain, they were shown to her cabin.

"What is it?" Vancleef demanded, glaring up from a stack of paper on her desk. She was dressed only in a scarlet shirt and loose cotton pants, and without her uniform greatcoat and hat, Harry realised she was quite young, only a few years older than he.

"Captain Vancleef, we need your aide," Harry said. "Something is wrong with General Arlos."

"Yes, he's got a great bloody stick up his ass," Vancleef answered, looking back at her papers. "But I don't see how that's my problem."

"We think something more is going on," Impa said. "Harbinger Vurenn suspects he is under the influence of a dreadlord."

"The hells a dreadlord?" Vancleef demanded, setting her pen down as a spark entered her eyes.

"It is a demon of the Burning Legion," Harry explained. "They are shapeshifters and deceivers. Several, such as Mal'ganis, are known to have served with the Scourge in the past. We believe one has infiltrated the ranks of the keep is and influencing the general."

"Bet it's that bastard noble counselor of his," Vancleef growled. "Always some noble prick ruining everything."

"Um, we don't have any suspects at the moment," Impa admitted. "Though there are two mages that have been acting very oddly. Twin mages, called collectively Fred and George, though which is which seems to switch around."

"Twin Mages?" Vancleef asked. "Wait, you don't mean the blond and the redhead do you?"

Harry and Impa both blinked. "You know them?"

Vancleef shrugged. "Saw them pointing at me and whispering. I sent Ripsnarl to sort them out but they popped away. Odd looking pair. The girl reminds me of Red though."

"Who's Red?" Harry asked.

"Old first mate of mine, she's back in Stormwind doing the king's bloody work now," Vancleef answered. "But anyway, about this demon thing. You think you need something found out, and then killed, yes?"

Harry nodded. "Yes; the demons of the Burning Legion must be purged wherever they are found."

Vancleef grinned wickedly. "Well then boyo, you came to the right crew. Oi, Helix, Ripsnarl, get in here!"

At the captain's bellow, the beastman, now in human form, and the goblin crewmember Harry had talked to earlier came into the cabin.

"Yes, your ladyship?" Helix the goblin asked.

"I told you not to bloody call me that," Vancleef snapped. "On my ship, it's Captain, savvy? Anyway, these two think we've got a demon hiding out in the fort here. Landlubbers acting weird, Ripsnarl?"

The beastman shrugged. "Lubber's are always acting weird, captain. But these are stranger than most, I think. They smell wrong."

"Don't mix right," Helix put in. "Even with the crew members that is proper Alliance races and all ain't welcome. Hells, I've gotten a cold shoulder even from the gnomes and they're always up for talkin' explosives if you get them sloshed."

"Could be demonic influence," Ripsnarl admitted. "But I think it's that general. He smells awful. Don't rightly know if he smells like a demon though. My nose wasn't so sensitive when last I fought the Scourge."

"Well, sounds like I need to pay the general a little visit," Vancleef said, standing and grabbing her greatcoat off of a rack. "Come along kiddos, it's time for some fun."

"Um, actually, the general said we were confined to quarters and threatened us if he saw us again," Harry said. "We probably shouldn't come."

"Well then what good are you?" Vancleef said. At the mournful expression that cross Harry's face, she laughed. "I'm kidding. Relax. Let the Brotherhood handle this. We're always sorting out the Alliance's messes anyway."

/\/\\\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\\\/\/\/\\\/\\\/\/\/\\\/\/

"Here I am, a member of the bloody bourgeoisie," Vanessa grumbled to herself as she stood on the deck of her ship in her fine embroidered great coat and plumed hat. She did sort of like the hat though.

"I'll take the steady food and pay over gettin' hanged any day," Helix said, coming up and offering three vials. "Got what you asked for, captain. Had most of it laying around, gnomes had the rest squirreled away."

Vanessa held the vials up to her face, swirling them around, before nodding and tucking them away in her coat. "And how much did it cost?"

"I took a discount," Helix said with a grin. He held up his hand. "The four fingered kind. That um, isn't goin' to be a problem now that we's on the straight and narrow, is it?"

"If they complain, just submit a requisition order in the name of the Alliance," Ripsnarl growled, coming up in his human form. "I've got what I need. We ready?"

"As we'll ever be," Vanessa agreed. She turned to the young paladin with the odd scar on his forehead. Harrison? She forgot. "You get those paladins of yours ready. If it is a demon, me and the boys can keep it busy, but we damn well can't fight one all on our lonesome. You holy types are piss at subtlety, but you're perfect for when you need some demon skulls cracked. You see the green smoke, you come running. Got it?"

"Yes ma'am," the paladin answered. "I'll inform Harbinger Vurenn immediately."

"You do that," Vanessa said. She handed him a roll of parchment. "There. That says you were here on my orders. One of the benefits to being a real officer type. Now get going."

The paladin and his blue companion left. Dead useful, that one. Anyone who could call up a storm or sling lighting was alright in Vanessa's books, as long as they did it for her at least.

"Right, come on you two. Let's go pay this General Arlos a visit," Vanessa said, straightening her hat and heading down the gangplank.

No one accosted them until they came to the entrance of the keep, where a guard held up his hand. "Halt! What's a group of criminals and greenskins doing visiting the general?"

"You will address her ladyship as Countess Vanessa Vancleef of Westfall, or as Captain Vancleef of the Defiant, boy," Ripsnarl growled, getting up in the guards face. "And you will address me as Lieutenant, savvy?"

"Piss off," the guard sneered. "You're a bunch of jumped up pirates. And if that girl is a countess, then I'm the Duke of Redridge!"

"Helix," Vanessa said in a bored tone. "The kneecaps."

"Kneecaps?" the guard said, turning around, just in time for Helix to ram a belaying pin into the side of his knee, causing the guard to cry out in pain and fall flat on his ass.

"Sorry your dukeness," Helix said, grinning as he smacked the pin onto the palm of his hand. "But we gots papers and everything. Now, disrespectin'' an officer and a lady? That's time in the brig and ten lashes, last time I checked the Alliance military handbook. Which I did, twice, on account of me now being a petty officer and all."

"You can't do this!" The guard gasped, trying to rise. "You're pirates and-" the guard stopped when Helix raised the belaying pin again. "Fine! Go in, but don't expect a warm welcome."

"Oh, I am going to enjoy this," Ripsnarl muttered as they made their way inside. He sniffed the air, frowning. "Stinks like...hmmm. Blood? Old blood."

"That what demons smell like?" Helix asked. "Or undead?"

"Not...quite," Ripsnarl answered, rubbing his chin. "If I went worgen, I might be able to tell better, but, well, I think we'd best save that for later. Plus, I like this shirt."

"Come on boyos, we've just begun," Vanessa said, taking the lead once more and making for the stairs. They were not stopped again until they came to the general's war room, where a guard captain held up his hand.

"Stop right there. The general has no interest in seeing you, scum."

"That's the wrong way to speak to a superior officer," Vanessa said calmly, coming to a halt with her arms folded behind her back in front of the man.

"Superior officer?" the captain sneered. "We're both captains."

"Wow, you are dumb," Helix laughed. "Navy captain's same rank as a commander, dumbass."

"Yes, but unlike her, I earned my rank, and I'm not a criminal," the guard said. "So that makes us even. Plus, I don't consort with goblins and dogs."

"I should have you flogged," Vanessa said with a shake of her head. "But I'll settle for a quick word with General Arlos. My marine contingent needs reinforcing; we took losses on the crossing."

"Ha! As if anyone would be willing to sail with pirate scum," the guard captain laughed. "But fine. I'll let you in, if only so I can see you kicked out on your ass."

Inside, Vanessa found Arlos glaring at the map, sitting in a chair massaging his temple as Counselor Talbot paced back in forth behind him.

"Even if they are an inferior race, they are a part of the Alliance. Perhaps we could find a use for them. We could send out patrols," the Counselor was saying.

"That's suicide," the general grumbled. "The undead would be upon them the moment they left this forsaken keep. Damn! By getting tied to the land we just make ourselves a target for the Scourge! Even they couldn't patrol the entire coastline, but once we set down roots we just made ourselves vulnerable."

"But your position would be stronger without...weaknesses," Talbot said soothingly. "If it were more...pure."

"Yes...yes I agree," Arlos said, leaning forward. "A patrol would do that damned Harbinger good. Maybe he'd even get himself killed."

Vanessa coughed, loudly.

"What?" Arlos snapped, looking up. When he saw Vanessa, he turned purple and gripped his wine glass so hard Vanessa thought he'd break it. "What do you want?"

"I couldn't help but overheard you wished to be rid of some undesirable elements," Vanessa said, coming forward. "Perhaps you'd give them to me? My crew is short after the losses we suffered on the crossing."

"As if I'd help scum like you," Arlos sneered. "What that idiot king thought he was doing, making a criminal like you an officer and a noble. It's disgusting. And you brought your pet beast and that vile goblin with you!"

"General, general, please. We can help each other. You want to be ride of something, and I want more men. Sailors don't need to be smart, or even human. I can take them right off your hands," Vanessa cood.

Behind Arlos, Counselor Talbot stroked his chin. "It may work to our advantage, sire. We do have certain undesirable elements that could do with removal. This makes an expedient way to do so."

"Could pack off that entire damned legion of space goats," Arlos mused. Then he shook his head. "Bah, that's too many. Maybe some of the dwarves or gnomes. Useless little bastards."

"Certainly," Vanessa said smoothly. She reached into her coat, and produced a bottle of champaign. "Had this in my cabin. Please, allow me. A drink, to seal the bargain."

"I'm not drinking your swill!" Arlos snapped. "I-"

"Sire," Counselor Talbot said, coming forward eagerly and putting a hand on the generals shoulder. "It's Suntouched Special reserve. I haven't seen a bottle of that since...well, in a very long time."

Vanessa glanced at the bottle, keeping her face neutral. It was some fancy piss that Varian had foisted off on her. He admitted he loathed the stuff, but it was seen as refined.

"It will be good for you to keep something like this in your cabin," he told Vanessa when he'd given her the bottle along with the refit _Defiant_. "For when you entertain the nobility. After all, you are a Countess now."

"What, like you?" she'd demanded.

The king laughed. "Don't serve me this weak stuff! Get me something with a kick, like that Black Label Rum! Now that is the drink of a real warrior!"

Well, at least it was doing it'd bloody job, even if it was elvish piss.

"This?" Arlos said, incredulous. "That's elvish stuff."

"From the vineyards of Quel'thalas," Talbot said, caressing the bottle. "It may be elvish sire, but it's a far sight better than what you're drinking."

"Hmph. Fine," Arlos grumbled. He motioned for glasses, and a soldier brought over a tray with three. Vanessa poured for the counselor and general, talking as she did so to hide her movements, though really the large sleeves on her greatcoat did that well enough.

"So, what about a squad of dwarven marksmen? I could use some long range firepower."

"Fine, I can spare those," Arlos agreed, picking up his glass. He sipped at it, then shrugged and downed the champagne. "Hmm. Not bad."

Talbot savored his wine, slowly draining his glass. "It lacks the flavor I remember. Alas. It seems all I sup on turns to ash in my mouth these days."

"Maybe you're just too picky," Vanessa said, pouring out two more glasses as she nursed her own. "Me, I'm just a pirate. Not taste for this fancy stuff."

Arlos took a swig of his glass, then belched loudly. "Hmph. Not usually a fan of the knife ear's brew, but I like the bubbles."

"Indeed," Vanessa said, watching him closely. Behind her, Ripsnarl and Helix took a few steps apart, the beastman loosening his shirt and Helix put a hand inside his jacket.

"I feel...odd," Arlos said, putting a hand to his forehead. "Like...light, where am I?"

"Having bad dreams lately?" Vanessa asked, loosening the daggers up her coat sleeves.

Counselor Talbot clutched his chest. "What is...My mind, I can't-"

"Tell me, general. What do you dream of?" Vanessa demanded, taking half a step back and falling into a fighter's stance. Around her the guards let out moans, some falling to one knee.

"Oh Light! What have I done?" Arlos cried, standing with wild eyes so suddenly that his chair was knocked back. "My command, it's my command! Mine! I can't-"

"Nooooo!" Talbot shrieked, and the general and soldiers screamed in pain, falling to their knees.

Vanessa pulled a vial from her coat and smashed it on the floor, causing green flames to flare and the room to fill with smoke.

"Foolish mortal!" Talbot hissed, his face draining of color as his eyes turned blood red. "What did you put in that wine?"

"A few things, Vanessa said easily, doffing her great cloat and twirling her daggers. "One was a mild hallucinogen. Helps break mind control spells by making you not quite sane. The other was manabane. Breaks any attempts at keeping up enchantment. Guess I was right. It was you, Talbot. Or should I say, dreadlord?"

"I am not some pathetic demon," Talbot hissed as he slowly changed. "I am one of the San'layn! Overlord of the Borean Tundra."

Vanessa felt her blood run cold as she stepped away. The Counselor grew in size, his muscles bulging as his hair became white and his fingernails turned to talons. His mouth threw two long fangs, and he hissed at Vanessa.

"Well, looks like I've exposed you now," Vanessa said, smiling as cold sweat ran down her back. "And you've lost your hold on the general. Your mine now, you undead bastard!"

Vanessa stepped through the shadows to appear behind Talbot, striking out with her daggers as Helix pulled a pistol and fired just as Ripsnarl leaped forward and changed into his worgen form, his claws and fangs stretching out to strike.

"Enough!" Talbot roared. He struck out behind him with a sinew arm, grabbing Vanessa and throwing her into Ripsnarl, sending them tumbling back. Helix's bullet struck a manashield, but before the goblin could fire again he was bowled over by his flung companions.

"You think you have won? You have lost everything! This keep, and all within it, are mine!" Talbot roared. "I am Prince Valanar! And I have drunk of the blood of these minions!"

The vampiric undead raised a hand into the air, and crimson ribbons extended to everyone in the room save the three former pirates. They struck the general and his guards, and the flesh melted from their bodies as they victims screamed in pain. From the steaming piles of flesh skeletons emerged with glowing red eyes.

"Go, my minions! Slay the living, and claim this keep for the Scourge!" Valanar ordered.

"Oh balls," Vanessa groaned. She dodged the first skeleton to reach her and slashed at its spine. The creature let out a horrific moan, then collapsed, the spell animating it broken for a moment, but it reformed within seconds, rising once more to attack.

"Um, captain, this is bad," Helix cried, throwing out several small bombs. They shattered several skeletons, but just like Vanessa's, they reformed after a moment, the crimson ribbons from Valanar knitting even the dust of the remains back together.

"Kill the one in the damned dress!" Vanessa ordered. "Don't focus on the minions! Ripsnarl, clear a path!"

With a roar the beastman leapt forward, his claws slashing away and making a way forward to Valanar, who was hovering over the shattered map table, a crimson orb glowing between his two outstretched hands.

Vanessa sprinted forward, hurling a vial of poison at the prince as she slashed two skeletons to ribbons. She jumped up at the prince, only for him to fire a bolt of boiling blood from the orb at her, knocking Vanessa back to the floor as she cried out in pain.

"Foolish mortal! I am no weakling wizard! You shall die, and your blood shall feed my thirst!"

The skeletons closed in, and Vanessa struggled to her feet, desperately fighting them off.

"There's too many of them! They won't die!" Helix cried, his voice full of panic.

"Just keep it together we-"

The door to the room shattered in an explosion of light, and a dozen draenei paladins in full plate charged into the room, swinging great hammers and swords of glowing crystal. The skeletons they hit with holy magic crumbled and did not reform, collapsing into piles of bone and blood.

"About damned time!" Vanessa shouted. "Where were you?"

"Stay back!" the lead paladin ordered, Maraad if Vanessa remembered right. "We shall cleanse this foul beast!"

"Fools! You shall accomplish nothing!" Valanar hissed. He flung the orb forward, and it burst into a hundred bloody missles, a dozen of which came for Vanessa. She cried out, but a shield of glowing light appeared around her, and the bolts splashed against it, falling away harmlessly. When she looked up however, Valanar was gone.

"Don't let that fucker get away!" Vanessa roared, dashing towards the stairs at the back of the room.

Outside, Harry and Impa along with most of the other paladins were trying to cleanse the soldiers who had collapsed to the ground, crying out in pain. It had happened suddenly, and while not everyone was affected, about half of the garrison were writhing in torment.

"What's happening?" Harry shouted to Harbinger Vurenn as he tried to heal a weeping guardswoman.

"Vancleef must have broken the dreadlords spell," Vurenn said, looking with his sword in hand. While he commanded the Vindicators, he himself was not well gifted in the Light. He had a strong sword arm, but his greatest weapon was his keen strategic and tactical reasoning. "I can only hope Maraad can prevent the demons escape."

"Harry, what the bloody hell did you do?!"

Harry spun, seeing the twin mages running towards him. "I got Vancleef's help like you said! Now either help treat these men or-"

"You were supposed to confront him yourself!" Fred, that is, the male one, said, coming to a halt before Harry.

"This wasn't supposed to happen!" Georgina said in a panicked tone, looking around desperately.

"Well it did," Fred snarled. "Get ready."

"For what?" Impa demanded, looking up from the soldier she'd been healing.

Suddenly, a dark figure with bat like wings emerged from the keep and took flight, making for the walls.

"The dreadlord!" Vurenn shouted.

"I got him!" Impa said, jumping up and extending a hand. A moment later, a lightning bolt lashed out, but a mana shield enveloped the figure, and the bolt was absorbed.

"Oh no you don't," Georgina growled, holding up her fiery orb. "Get 'em Reth!"

"No!" Fred shouted. "We're not supposed to-"

"RETH RETH RETH RETH!"

The orb exploded in a blast of flames as a great fire elemental rose up, shooting a lance of flame at the fleeing figure and blasting it down to the courtyard.

"Shut up, we already did and now we have to fix it!" Georgina hissed, glaring at her brother. "Now come on, that's a serious Scourge nasty and I can't take him alone!"

"Bloody buggering hell!" Fred screamed. "Fine!"

Just as the figure started to rise from where it had fallen, Fred rained down a storm of ice, causing it to huddle beneath its wings as shards of ice slammed into it.

"Vindicate, destroy the Dreadlord!" Vurenn shouted as he charged forward, his sword held high. Harry was half a step behind him, along with half a dozen other paladins.

"MORTAL FOOLS!" With a shriek of rage the figure flapped its wings, sending out a gust of black wind that drove Harry to his knees and blinded him. "I AM PRINCE VALANAR! THIS IS MY FORTRESS! HERE, YOU SHALL ALL SERVE ME!"

From above, Vancleef's voice shouted, "No! Don't let him-"

But it was too late. Nine crimson orbs shot out from Valanar, and bloody spears were flung in all directions. Each of the spears hit an Alliance soldier who moments before had been writhing in agony. All those who had not already been cleansed by the paladins perished in a hiss of blood as their flesh dissolved, and their skeletons peeled off their mortal coils.

"COME FORTH MY MINIONS!" Valanar roared. "CLEANSE THE LIVING FROM THIS LAND!"

"Reth, stomp him!" Georgina ordered.

The great fire elemental let out a blast of flame, but with a flap of his wings Valanar dodged away. An instant later, the fire elemental roared in pain as skeletons flung themselves at it, slashing with weapons or bare bone.

As if that wasn't enough, from beyond the walls there was a chittering hiss, and the guards who remained atop the ramparts cried out in horror as a swarm of the spider like undead launched an all out assault.

"To the keep!" Vurenn bellowed. "Survivors to the keep! We will make our stand there!"

 _Authors Note:_

 _Man, I wonder what sort of zany adventures Luna and Neville are having?_


	15. Secret of Valiance Keep III

_Authors Note: Sadly the Zany Adventures of Luna and Neville must wait until next chapter._

Most of the survivors who had not perished in the first assault managed to make it inside of the keep, barring the doors and warding them against the tide of Scourge that enveloped Valiance Keep. From the docks, sounds of fighting could be heard as the ships weighed anchor and limped out to the harbor, away from the mass of undead.

"We are so screwed!" Georgina moaned as she slumped against the wall. "I should have listened to Lucy and Short Stuff!"

"We chose to meddle," Fred said, looking at Harry as stood by his sister. "Now we must live with our new fates."

"This is no time to bemoan our destiny!" Vurenn said, striding through the ragged survivors. "We are not beaten yet! We have a good position here. You, mages, can you create a portal for us to flee through? Or at least to evacuate the wounded."

"The keep is warded," Georgina groaned, pounding her fist onto her head. "That damned vamp probably did it."

"Then we must win with what we have," Vurenn said, his eyes wandering over those present. "Harry, Impa, go to the roof to reinforce Maraad and Vancleef. We shall hold here. The ships seem to have escaped the Scourge. They shall bring reinforcements."

Harry and Impa made their way to the roof of the keep, where Maraad had his vindicators formed up, ready to repel an attack from the spider like creatures.

"Harry, Impa, stand here," Maraad ordered. "Heal and aide those in front, and cover us from an air attack. I can see gargoyles swarming above the cliffs there."

"This is bloody fantastic," Vancleef groused from where she was sitting as a vindicator saw to a wound on her side. "Should never have listened to you two."

"Would you have prefered this trap be sprung while we were sleeping?" Harry asked her, coming to squat nearby.

"No, I suppose not. That's enough! I'm fit enough to stand." Vancleef got up on shaky legs and gazed around. "Well. We're properly buggered now ain't we?"

Impa looked up hesitantly. "The ships, they can get help, right?"

Vancleef laughed. "Sure they can. How long did it take us to get here from Menathil?"

"Twelve days," Impa answered, her voice trembling.

"There are other outposts though, right?" Harry asked hesitantly.

Vanessa snorted. "Sure, there's a Horde outpost not to far away, but the nearest Alliance camp is all the bloody way at Westguard and that's five days of sailing away, and that's WITH a good wind. We're on our own for this one."

"Stand ready!" Maraad ordered.

Vancleef groaned, pulling out a pistol and cocking it. "Well, at least I can die on my feet."

Below, the sounds of battle renewed as the undead battered at the gates below. Soon gargoyles and spider creatures assaulted the top of the walls as well. Vancleef picked off a few with her gun, while Harry and Impa healed the defenders and provided covering magic. Helix the goblin lobbed bombs over the side, driving back the spiders several times, while Ripsnarl joined the ranks of paladins, his sharp talons biting into chitin and stone alike.

For half an hour, the battle raged, with defenders dropping despite Harry and Impa's best efforts at keeping their allies wounds healed. However, soon Harry and Impa were forced to rely less and less on their healing spells, as their reserves were drained. Forced to take up sword and mace, they kept the back lines clear of gargoyles for a time with Vancleef and Helix's help.

"There are too many!" one of the vindicators cried, before she was struck down by a gargoyles talon.

"Fall back, bar the doors!" Maraad ordered, and the remaining defenders slowly fell back as the endless wave of scourge drove them inside. They managed to bar the door, but everyone knew that wouldn't last long.

A few minutes later, a wounded soldier who had survived the purge limped up. "Down to the main hall, your commander has a plan," he wheezed.

They hurried down the stairs, where Harbinger Vurenn had all the survivors capable of standing on their feet lined up.

"We cannot hold," he said in a weary voice, leaning heavily on his sword. His breastplate had a large rent in it, where a giant spider creature had wounded him. The wound had been healed, but the Harbinger had lost a great deal of blood. "Our only hope is a breakout."

Harry looked to the entrance, where a dozen vindicators were keeping the Scourge at bay with the help of the two mages and several dwarven riflemen.

"We could hold that entrance for a while yet, but they have seized the roof. Soon they will break our barricades and come at us from all sides," Vurenn continued. "We must fight our way out. It is the only way."

"What will we do?" a human soldier with a lieutenant's tabard asked in a panicked tone.

"We make for Warsong hold," Vurenn said grimly. "It is the only possible relief from the Scourge."

"That's a league away!" the lieutenant protested. "And, well, it's controlled by the Horde. They're almost worse than the Scourge!"

"It is the only option," Vurenn said grimly. There was a crash above them, and panicked cries from the soldiers. "Now, for Argus and the Light!"

The defenders quickly formed up and charged the Scourge, breaking through the front lines. Harry stayed at the back, helping to drag the wounded. For a moment, it looked like they would make it, as the vindicators carved a swath through the Scourge with holy magic. They made their way towards the gate, which was barred shut. Two vindicators raced forward, smiting the skeletons that had been guarding it and lifting the bar.

"Oh no," Harry groaned.

On the other side, formed up in ranks, were hundreds of the spider creatures. Some of them were the giant scarab beetle types, others were the smaller web spitting kind. Above them flew more gargoyles, and small insectile creatures that dripped acid from their maws. The survivors halted, stymied by the massive force.

"Fools!" Prince Valanar laughed, coming from behind at the head of dozens of his skeletons with three crimson orbs floating above his head. "Your fates were sealed the moment you set foot upon this land! Now, you die!"

"Helix?" Vanessa said calmly.

"Um, yeah boss?" the goblin said nervously.

"Got any more of those green smoke bombs?"

Helix briefly rummaged in his belt, pulling out a small canister. "One left."

"Good. Bean that damned talkative loon with it," Vanessa ordered.

Helix hurled the smoke bomb with all his might, managing to land it at the feet of Prince Valanar. The vampiric undead stepped away from it as it began to belch green smoke, but the laughed. "What is this? A party favor?"

"Nope. Targeting beacon," Vanessa called.

The Prince's eyes went wide. "Targeting-"

From out in the bay, there was a sudden roar as the lingering Alliance warships let loose with all of their guns. The ranks of the skeletons were decimated, and even Valanar went down in the barrage.

"Close the gates!" Vurenn ordered as the ranks of the undead outside advanced. Swiftly, the gates were swung shut and barred once more.

"That won't hold them for long," Vurenn muttered, turning back around to face where the Prince had been standing. After a long minute, the cannonade stopped, and smoke and dust arose from the bombarded area. Harry peered into the obscured area, squinting and trying to see what had happened, but his heart sank. He could still sense the presence of many undead.

"You… Will… PAY!"

With a burst of scarlet magic, Valanar revealed himself, hovering on his bat like wings above the cratered ground. He flung his arms out, and the orbs floating around him glowed brightly and and began to spit bloody missiles, reforming the fallen and shattered skeletons.

"Nothing for it, then," Vanessa muttered. "Got to take him down."

Vurenn raised his sword. "Slay him, quickly!"

Harry charged, leaving the wounded behind as he desperately ran forward. The prince vanished into the smoke, and Harry clashed with the skeletons, desperately calling upon the Light. The Song of the Naaru swelled within him, and his sword glowed like it was made of molten glass. The skeletons he struck down did not reform, and Harry charged forward, desperate to find and slay the Scourge overlord. Beside him, Impa had put aside her maces, and was calling upon healing magics to strengthen Harry and the other paladins.

Behind Harry, the two mages used their magic to drive off the undead making their way to the other survivors. Despite the fury of fire and ice they called down, many of the skeletons reformed, forcing them to use only powerful area magics that called down storms of ice or summoned pillars of flame. Such spells were taxing however, and Harry knew they did not have long.

Behind Harry, horns sounded, long, baying things that sent a chill down his spine. He ignored it, knowing that there was nothing he could do about the rear. He dashed forward through the smoke, only to be knocked back when Valanar smashed into him from above.

"Foolish child! Humans are such weak creatures, but to send children after one such as I? Sheer folly!" Valanar hissed as he slashed down at Harry with long talons.

Harry managed to get his shield up in time, but cried out in pain as the talons ripped into the metal of his shield and wrenched it from his arm, breaking it in the process. Harry rolled away, desperately seeking to get some distance, but Valanar lept after him.

"Back, fiend!" Vindicator Maraad leapt forward, swinging his crystalline hammer in a wide arch. IT crashed into the Scourge overlord's chest, flinging him backwards.

Impa hurried forward, touching a hand to Harry's shattered arm and sending healing magic up it. Harry struggled to his feet, gripping his sword. "We have to keep the skeletons off Maraad! He's strong enough to fight that thing, but there's no way we can!"

"I'll keep both of you whole," Impa promised, tossing down two totems. One summoned an earth spirit formed a protective barrier around Harry, while the other trickled soothing mists over him, keeping him refreshed and whole.

Using only his sword, Harry managed to keep the skeletons at bay as Maraad and Valanar clashed. The dark prince cast horrific spells that caused boils to form on Maraad's skin and blood to be ripped from his veins, but the giant paladin did not lose focus. He continued his assault, blasting back with holy magics and battering Valanar with his great hammer. Thanks to Impa's spells, Maraad's wounds were kept minor and did not overwhelm him, but the Prince did not seem to show any signs of damage himself.

"I am San'layn! Every drop of blood you spill strengthens me!" Valanar cried as his claws raked at Maraad.

"I am a paladin of Argus! The Light has not abandoned me, and with it, I can accomplish all things!" Maraad bellowed back.

Behind Harry, he heard a loud crash, and more warhorns. His heart sank. The gate had been breached.

"RISE UP, SONS OF THE HORDE! BLOOD AND GLORY AWAKE! LOK'TAR OGAR!"

"FOR THE HORDE!"

The howling of wolves filled the air, and Harry looked back in shock. From the swirling smoke, large brutish figures in armor emerged. Some wielded axes, others spears or giant pole arms. All were decked in warpaint and riding wolves the size of small cars. One rider made straight for Maraad and Valadar, leaping from his mount with a mighty roar and swinging a great axe that howled like a host of demons.

"Die, scum!" Garrosh Hellscream roared. "You are no match for the might of the Horde!"

Valanar hissed, trying to take to the air with his wings, but Maraad's hammer drove him back to the ground. "Finish him!"

With one mighty blow, Garrosh cleaved the head of the overlord away, sending the prince slumping to the ground. As he did so, the three crimson orbs were extinguished. While the skeletons did not simply collapse back to dust, they no longer rose up again. Each was finally put down, either by the brute strength of the Horde warriors or by the magic of the draenei vindicators.

Panting, Harry sank to his knees. He tried to loosen his grip upon his sword, but his muscles had locked up, and he clutched it in a white knuckled grasp.

"Pah," Garrosh growled, kicking at the corpse of Valanar. "Pathetic. Is this the best the Scourge has to offer?"

"He was not so easy to kill," Maraad gasped, catching his breath as he leaned on his hammer. "I did weaken him a bit for you."

"Ha! Leave it to the Alliance to need to Horde to finish the job," Garrosh sneered.

Maraad shrugged. "Still, I thank you, young Hellscream. And those are not words I ever thought I would say."

Garrosh was about to reply, when another orc strode over. This one had long white hair, but still carried a large axe that was coated with blood and bonedust. "Garrosh! Choose your words wisely. Act with honor, at all times, to all people."

"Hmph," Garrosh glared at the older orc for a moment, then relented. He sheethed his axe upon his back. "Perhaps you fought well, draenei. It was...interesting...fighting beside you."

Maraad nodded, standing and offered an outstretched hand to Garrosh. "May the Light bless you, Garrosh."

Garrosh looked at the hand for a moment, then shrugged and grabbed it, squeezing hard enough Harry heard the metal fo Maraad's gauntlet scream in protest. "Lok'tar ogar." With that, Garrosh turned away, striding over to his warriors and ignoring the beleaguered remaining Alliance defenders.

"He has much to learn," the elderly orc said, coming to stand beside Maraad. He glanced over at the draenei vindicator. "Still. It seems we arrived just in time."

"That is the Light's honest truth," Harbinger Vurenn said, striding over. "I thank you, Overlord Saurfang. It has been many years since we last spoke."

This time, it was the orc who offered his hand. "Harbinger Vurenn. It seems this day we fight on the same side."

Vurenn smiled and shook. "Indeed. For that, I am grateful. You saved many lives this day."

"Then a small part of the debt I owe your people has been repaid," Saurfang said, putting a hand to his heart. He looked sad and weary, despite the fact that there were few Horde wounded or dead.

"The Light gives redemption to all who seek it," Vurenn replied. "Come, we must talk. We I have seen here today...it is troubling. The Scourge sought to sow discord and hatred in our ranks, and it very nearly destroyed us in doing so. I would not see the same thing happen to your people."

The two commanders walked a short distance away to talk, and Harry's attention wandered. He managed to relax his hand and sheath his sword, and took out some rations to chew on, exhausted and hungry. Impa sat beside him, neither speaking, but both grateful to be alive.

After a short time, Helix wandered over, kicking at the skeletal corpses.

"What are you doing?" Impa asked.

Helix looked up and shrugged. "Checking for loot."

"That's disgusting," Impa said, recoiling at the thought.

"Eh, old habits die hard," the goblin answered. He reached down and rummaged around the corpse of Valanar.

"Are you mad? He could be diseased!" Harry protested.

"Nah. If he'd plagued us we'd already be walkin' around without our skin. Nasty variant, that. Nice. He had a wallet on him." Helix held up a small leather purse, which he emptied into his hand. He grinned and pocketed the gold that fell out, but Harry stopped him from pocketing a folded piece of parchment.

"Wait, that could have valuable intelligence," Harry said.

Helix frowned. "Thought you didn't want to touch it. And I saw it first."

"Helix, hand it over," Vancleef ordered, striding over. "And quit looting the corpses of the dead. Most of these were once our allies."

"But we always used to loot the corpses of our allies!" Helix protested, reluctantly handing over the letter.

"Yes, but now we're members of the bourgeois, and must act the part," Vancleef said. Her eyes scanned the letter. "Interesting."

"What does it say?" Impa asked.

Vancleef looked up from the letter, then shrugged. "It's a note from someone called Lana'thel. It's about something that was lost, but apparently he wasn't to look for it."

Harry's eyes went wide. "Let me see!" He eagerly took the letter from Vanessa and quickly read it as Impa looked on.

 _Valanar_

 _Do not seek that which was lost. It is a relic of days gone by. You may wish to possess the power of the blade for yourself, but one such as you could never wield it. I myself could not bring myself to touch that light forged sword. I know you already possess the hilt: do not seek the rest of the blade. I buried it, along with the remnants of our former lives. If you persist in this folly, know that I will not hesitate to slay you, and from that death, there will be no return._

 _Lana'thel_

"Did he have anything else on him?" Harry demanded, looking up eagerly.

"Nope, nothin'," Helix said evenly.

Vancleef glared at the goblin, who eventually relented.

"Alright, alright, there was this." Helix pulled a battered lump of metal from his belt and held it up.

Carefully, Harry took it, examining it in his hands. He felt a twinge of power as he did so, and his eyes grew wide. "This is a sword hilt of some kind. It reacted to the Light when I touched it, if only faintly."

"Super. That'll be ten gold," Helix stated evenly, holding out his hand.

Harry blanched. "I um, left my gold in the barracks."

"Well, the I guess I'll be taking back my-OW!"

Vancleef glared at Helix, who was rubbing the back of his leg where she had kicked him. "It's a useless hunk of metal. Let the boy have it. I'll need the letter back though."

"Of course, please, show it to Harbinger Vurenn. This may be a powerful weapon we can use against the Scourge," Harry said, handing the letter back over.

"Should charge extra then," Helix muttered, dodging away from Vancleef.

Impa peered down at the battered hilt in Harry's hand. "Is that really that which was lost?" she asked.

"I think so," Harry said eagerly. "Maybe, this will be key to defeating Arthas and the Scourge."

/\\\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\\\/\/\\\/\/\/

"Just so you know, I blame you for everything that went wrong."

The blonde mage looked over at his sister with a neutral expression, then turned back to look out on the icy waters of Valiance Harbor. "Both of us made mistakes."

The redheaded woman snorted, shaking her head. "Well at least it all turned out alright. I think. You feel, you know, all there?"

"I'm fine. Besides this doesn't work like that, or weren't you paying attention? Don't answer that, it was rhetorical."

"You're bloody rhetorical."

The two mages sat in silence, legs dangling over the edge of the dock, the sound of sentry's calling to one another in the night the only sound besides that of the waves.

There was a pop, and a third figure, this one the size of a human child, appeared. The gnome walked over and sat between the mages.

"Whew! So, how long has it been since last we saw each other?"

"A week for us, short stuff," the ginger woman said.

"Hmm, hmm, about right, about right I should think. Well, did you succeed?"

"Two dead 'fins," the blonde man said tiredly.

"And one enormous mess," his sister grumbled.

The gnome jumped up and looked around wildly. "Oh, oh my, what did happen? I didn't notice...no, no, things are perfectly within acceptable bounds."

"Easy for you to say, you didn't almost get killed by Scourge and bloody 'fins," the red head snapped.

Her brother raised a calming hand. "We succeeded. The hilt is in the hands of Harry Potter. A powerful Scourge minion is slain, for good. Khadgar will be pleased."

"Yeah, but Lucy is going to have a bloody cow," the ginger complained.

The gnome shrugged and sat back down. "Well, personally I think she'll be perfectly content. You did meddle, didn't you? That's what all the fuss was about?"

The twins nodded, and the gnome laughed. "Well, that's what you lot are good for, right? Even Lucy meddled! Or will meddle. I'm not sure. I get confused sometimes. Anyway, ready to go? Any last goodbyes? I mean, you'll see each other very soon from one perspective, but if you look at things another way-"

"It's fine," the twins said in unison, standing up.

"Let's just go," the man said, shaking his head.

The woman sighed and nodded. "Yeah, fine. I need to go have a good cry somewhere anyway. They don't even know what's coming, or who we are, but still, to see things myself…"

"Perfectly natural, perfectly natural," the gnome said cheerily. She raised her hands above her head, and the group vanished in a whirlwind of golden sand, leaving the docks deserted.

 _Authors Note:_

 _Garrosh Hellscream seems like such a nice fellow. I'm sure we can only expect good things from him in the future._


	16. Interlude: Ravens and Bears

"And here we have an especially fine Luckydo! The smelliest yak cheese we have ever seen here at the Bazaar!" Lucky Eightcoins said, holding the cheese high above his head.

The assembled grummels all made appreciative noises, proclaiming that the cheese was indeed the smelliest they had ever sniffed.

Luna clapped politely, and Lili grinned at her. "That cheese is ultra stinky. It's sure to win this time!"

"We shall see," Luna said.

Eightcoins shoved the cheese into a pouch, handing it to one of his assistants. "And now, we have our next entry, from the living Luckydo herself, MIstress Luna!"

Luna skipped forward, leaping up onto the platform and bowing to the assembled grummles.

"Ladies and Gentlegrummels," Luna said. "I bring to you an object so lucky, a luckydo so powerful, that it is not of this world!"

The grummles gasped, leaning forward as Luna held out her closed fist.

"This object was carried by a raven, a wise and very lucky bird, as it led me from the Lucky Land of England where the Leprechauns roam, and as we all know, anything touched by a Leprechaun is very lucky indeed."

Lili snorted, folding her arms over her chest and shaking her head, but Luna grinned and winked at her, tipping her wide brimmed straw hat to her sisterly rival. "Behold! The Trillium Pebble of Sri-La!" Luna held up a plain, ordinary rock, as the grummles all hurried forward to look. She inhaled deeply.

"For you see, long ago, this pebble was forged in the fiery pits of the Molten Core by the grand blacksmith of Ragnaros himself, in a time before the world began…."

The assembled crowd listened, awestruck, as Luna wove her tale. Save for Lili, who groaned, slapping her forehead, and went off to buy some snacks while she waited for Luna to win again.

"...and so, Kirito, Guardian of the Pebble, fell to his knees, and passed from this world, leaving behind the mighty weapon, for he knew that, one day, its power would be required once more."

"Are you done yet?" Lili demanded around a mouthful of kettlecorn, smacking her lips loudly.

"Yes," Luna answered, nodding soberly. "But the legacy of the pebble lives on."

Reverently, Eightcoins took the pebble, placing it on a tiny purple cushion and setting it on a pedestal. "We shall take great care of this most wondrous of Lucky Does, Luna, Finder of Luckydos. We of the grummels are grateful that you would share such a luckydo as this."

Luna bowed, accepting her prize in the form of a massive keg of the grummel's brew, along with a heavy pouch of coins thrown in for providing them with a legendary Luckydo this time around.

"Didn't you just randomly pick that pebble up off the ground on our way the the Bazaar?" Lili demanded of Luna as they walked the trail back to the White Tiger temple.

"Of course not. I very intentionally picked that pebble up on our way to the Bazaar," Luna answered.

"Of course you did. Well, at least we won the brew again. I still can't believe my cheese lost. I had to trade a gallon of Uncle Chen's best plum wine for that you know!"

Luna nodded sagely. "Ordinarly your cheese would have been the certain victor. But then, Luckydos are not based only on the value they have, but on the value those who carry them place upon them."

"Yeah well yours was just some stupid story," Lili argued as they started up the long hill the Temple of the White Tiger was built on. "The Trillium Pebble of Sri-La. Honestly."

Lili and Luna both bowed to the sacred statue at the base of the temple, then hurried on their way. Though the hill was steep, and the air thin and cold, neither girl slowed their pace nor became very winded, despite the fact Luna was lugging a large barrel on her back. They waved to the various initiates and masters as they made their way up to the Master's Quarters on the far north slope of the summit the temple sat up, just below that of the main temple building where Xuen himself dwelled.

"Uncle Chen, we're home," Lili called as they ran inside. "Luna won again, my cheese didn't win."

Upon entering their quarters though, they found their uncle was not alone, but playing Go with with a guest in the dark leather armor of one of the Shado-Pan.

"Ah, there you are girls," Chen said, looking up from the game. "Sorry to hear about the cheese Lili. What did you end up bringing, Luna?"

"The Lost Trillium Pebble of Sri-La," Luna answered, taking the keg of grummle brew off of her back and setting it down with a thunk.

The visitor stirred, glancing up from the board he had been studying. "I was not aware of any such artifact."

"That's 'cause Luna made it up, as usual," Lili answered.

"Hmmm," the stranger said, then looked back at the board. He carefully set a black tile upon it, causing several white ones to flip over. "I believe that's my game."

Chen looked at the board, frowning, then snorted and folded his arms over his chest. "The game is not over yet! I still can move!"

"You will go here," the stranger said, pointing with a claw. "I shall go here. Then, you will logically respond by moving here. I shall place my piece here. Then, you will be locked in. We shall play out a dance, but in the end I will have encircled you, and your pieces will be far less than my own."

Chen rubbed his chin, then muttered something under his breath. "One day, Taran, I will beat you."

"Not this day, I think," the stranger said, standing. He frowned at Luna, studying her carefully. "You have grown."

"Young girls tend to do that, whether they be Pandaren or Human," Luna said easily. "What about you? Uncle Chen seems to mostly grow around his middle these days."

"That's not true!" Chen protested. He flexed his arms, showing off impressive muscles. "I also grow in strength and courage!"

"Are you going to introduce us or not?" Lili asked, taking the keg and setting it on a small table, then tapping a spigot into it with an expert touch.

"I don't think that's necessary," Luna said. "It's obvious what he is: A raven. Also, his name is Taran, Uncle Chen said it not a moment ago."

"A what?" Taran asked, frowning at Luna.

"A raven," Luna answered, grabbing steins to poor the brew into. "They're very wise birds, always watching, and hoarding treasures and knowledge. Plus, if they flap hard enough, they can help to drive back the cold winds that blow from dead places. I wanted to be a raven once, though know I think I'll settle for being a grummle. They're terribly lucky you know."

"I see you live up to rumor, young Lovegood," Taren said, shaking his head. "Strange words and odd manners. You do not belong here."

"I don't particularly belong anywhere, as nowhere really belongs to me," Luna told him, pouring Lili a stein of beer and then once for herself. "But this is a good a place as any for me for now."

"Lili, Luna, this is Taran Zhu, of the Shado-Pan," Chen said, accepting a mug of his own. He quickly drained it, smacking his lips and wiping some froth from his beard. "Ah! A fine brew! Most lucky indeed!"

"So Taren the Raven, why did you come here?" Luna asked, holding out a mug for him. "I don't think it was for the grummle brew, even if it is very good."

"For you," Taran answered, taking the mug but not drinking. "Strange things stir. The sha are waking up."

"I thought the sha were locked away forever by the Last Emperor," Lili said. "They're just like stories for kids and stuff. You know 'be good or the sha will get you' and stuff like that."

"The sha are far more real than that," Taran Zhu growled. "And their stirrings first began when that one arrived on our shores. Tell me, Luna Lovegood, if that is your name, from whence do you come?"

"Far away and beyond the mists upon a ravens wings," Luna answered. "I flew through the night and beyond the stars to come here, though I didn't know where I was going when I set out."

"That is not an answer!" Taran Zhu snapped, setting his mug down and drawing nearer to Luna, circling like a menacing wolf. "Where did you come from? Kalimdor? The Eastern Kingdoms? Beyond there? Who sent you!"

"I don't know where any of those place are," Luna admitted. "Though like most girls I came from my mother with a little help from my father."

"You speak in riddles, yet your words hold no wisdom, only folly," Taran growled, stopping only inches from Luna and looming over her, his lips pulled back to reveal his fangs. "I ask you for the last time: Where do you come from, human?"

"She came from Earth!" Lili blurted, trying to insert herself between the Shado-Pan warrior and her adopted sister. "She doesn't know how she got here, honest! She cried for months after she first came! Her mother was dead and she was taken away from her father, she doesn't know how!"

"Earth?" Zhu asked, looking over Lili at Luna. "Where is that?"

Luna looked away, trying to hide the tears that came into her eyes. "I don't think it's anywhere really. I've thought about it a lot, and I think I was kidnapped by ophes. They sent a cold wind and it took me far away from my father and home. I'm glad Uncle Chen found me, because I was very lost, and very hungry."

"Taran!" Chen snapped, putting a hand on the other Pandaren's shoulder. "I have told you! She is but a child. She knows nothing of where she come from! I have never heard of the places she speaks of before. There was no wreckage on the beach. No other survivors of some shipwreck! We have no idea how she arrived, but she is here."

"And thus, my problem," Taran said, brushing Chen's hand off of his shoulder. "The sha stir in their prisons. They are not free, not yet. But something has changed. Nothing has changed in Pandaria. Except for the presence of this girl."

"Perhaps they're just lonely," Luna offered. "And they hear their friends and want to go play with them."

"Foolish girl! The shaw are a curse, a blight they-" Taran Zhu raised his hand, only to have Chen grab it.

"Luna, what did you say?" Chen asked, staring intently at her.

Luna shrugged. "Well, if I was locked up somewhere in a prison and I heard my friends calling for me I would want to go out and play with them."

Taran glared at Luna as he tried to get free of Chen's grip. "The sha are not some idiot child! They are an abomination, they-"

"Girls, go to master Lao. You have neglected your training today," Chen ordered.

"Yes Uncle Chen," Lili said quickly, dragging Luna out of the room. The door slammed, and Taran rounded on Chen.

"I must take her! We have to know if she is what is causing this disturbance!"

Chen, looking drained, sat down, hard. "Sit, Taran. I fear we have made a grievous error."

"Finally, you see reason! I will not harm the girl! I only need to see how the sha react to her. If she is the cause of this, then-"

"She was right," Chen said, looking up and glaring at Taran. "The friends of the sha ARE waking."

Taran stared at Chen, baffled. "What do you mean? The sha have no friends. They are negative emotions, made manifest."

"I told you of the odd things I saw in my travels," Chen said grimly. "You forget one thing I mentioned: the Old Gods."

"What do the pagan gods of far off lands have to do with the sha?" Taran demanded.

"They were much like the sha," Chen said, stroking his beard as his eyes became unfocused, seeing the past. "They fed on negative emotions. Drove people to madness, to unspeakable acts. And much like the sha, they were bound, imprisoned. But they were waking up. Or, rather, being woken up. By an insect like race known as the nerubians. I saw them in Northrend before I fled away from that madman Arthas when he blamed me and the other mercenaries for sinking his ships."

"You have told me of this," Taran admitted. "But I do not see how this connects to the sha."

Chen shook his head. "We will need to research this. But what if the Old Gods were simply the name other lands gave to their sha? And what if they are waking? Perhaps they are calling out to their relations, making them stir."

Taran sat silent for a moment, drumming his fingers on the Go table. "The klaxxi have been unusually active of late. Another swarm is not due for a decade, but I did not think much of it. These nerubians, they were insectile? Like the klaxxi?"

"At first I thought them the same, though upon closer examination they were clearly different," Chen stated. "But, then, there were the tauren. They were like the yangol, but different. What if these nerubians were simply there lands version of the klaxxi? The legends say they were servants of the sha, and they worshiped their dark seven headed god even now."

"That is...a good theory," Taran admitted. "And, one I would rather explore than subjecting a girl to the horrors of the sha. Even a human one. I am not without compassion."

"No, old friend, you only put your duty above all else, even your own better judgement and better nature," Chen chided. "There is more to life than duty."

"For others, perhaps. For the Shado-Pan, duty must come before all. We are the watchers on the wall." Taran stood, bowing to Chen. "My agents will continue to monitor the girl. She has shown no signs of corruption as yet, but we must be ever vigilant. Until we meet again, old friend."

With that, Taran vanished, leaving behind Chen. Glancing around, Chen carefully flipped a black tile to white. "Ha! Beat you at last you old curmudgeon!"

With Taran gone, Chen wandered down to the adepts court, where he found Lili and Luna training hard under the supervision of Master Lao. Lili conjured bolts of lighting and summoned spirit serpents to harass Luna, striking with fist and staff at her friend. Luna, for her part, made Lili look foolish.

She would roll forward, caress a serpent, then kiss it on the snout. After that, the spirit would only trail playfully after Luna, not striking at her no matter what Lili told it. When Lili conjured lightning, Luna would plant her feet firmly on the ground, then take the lighting in one finger, firing it out the other as it passed harmlessly through her. When Lili struck with her staff, Luna would flow around it, or redirect the blow to the ground or sky, making the attack harmless.

However, whenever Luna struck at Lili, she found herself outmatched. No matter how many blows Luna struck, Lili would simply erase them straight away, weaving the mists about her body as if it were a part of her.

"No, no, no!" Master Lao said, interposing himself. "You must strike like the tiger! Fierce, and fast. Luna, your blows lack conviction! Lili, you are like the wind, here, and there, but going around, not THROUGH! When you much, it must be from your chi, not merely your arm! And you use too much mist! You must focus your energy on the attack, not just defense!"

"But I then I would hurt Lili," Luna said matter of factly. "And I don't actually want to do that."

"Yeah, I'm not sold on the idea of actually hurting Luna either. She's my sister. Why would I want to hurt her?"

Master Lao groaned and smacked his forehead. "You show no such restraint when fighting the other initiates!"

"Well duh! That's because they're dumb and smelly," Lili said, rolling her eyes.

Luna nodded sagely. "They all lack any good sense. As such, it's our duty to knock all the wrackspurts out of their heads and make room for the sense they need."

"I give up!" Master Lao said, throwing his paws up in the air. "You two are done sparing for the day. Strength training! That is what you need. Put on the weights, and run up and down the mountain twice! That, at least, will alleviate my own headache…"

Luna and Lili complained, but they did as commanded, strapping on the weighted training clothes.

"Last one to the bottom is a hozen's behind!" Luna called, away.

Lili was hot on her heels, both girls laughing as they sped down the slope.

Chen walked over to Master Lao, who was gazing after the girls, shaking his head. "Those two will never make proper Tiger Monks."

"Well, I don't particularly intend for them to be such," Chen said, coming over. "I merely wish them to be able to protect themselves when needed. And, of course, for them to learn a bit of the tigers discipline."

Lao grunted. "Hmph. Well, I don't know about discipline, but those two can look after themselves, especially together. They're not especially skilled one on one, but they're undefeated in the doubles matches. Most other initiates lose from exhaustion. Luna's as slippery as a greased virmen, and Lili commands the mists as well as any Jinyu Waterspeaker. They make a formidable pair. But don't tell them I said that. Lili's head is big enough as it is, and Luna would be even more unfocused if she thought I approved of her antics."

"They are young, yet," Chen chuckled. "Let them have their fun while they can."

"And how long will that be?" Lao demanded, turning to Chen. "I know who visits you every fortnight. What interest does the Grand Master of the Shado-Pan have in those girls? I know that one is odd, but what interest do the Watchers have in Luna?"

"She comes from beyond the mists," Chen answered. "And the Shado-Pan fear that which breaches our defenses."

"Normally a wise sentiment," Lao mused. "But in the case of Luna, an unmerited one. She might try my patience, but she has a good heart. She has embraced Pandaren values nicely."

"So I tell Taran every visit," Chen sighed. "He has yet to listen."

"Well, just remember the old saying," Lao said, turning away to put away the sparing staves Lili and Luna had dumped on the ground.

"What old saying?" Chen asked.

Lao shrugged, setting the staves back on their racks. "Just because you're paranoid doesn't mean the mogu aren't out to get you."

\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\\\/\/\\\/\/\/\\\/

Neville Longbottom had never felt terribly comfortable in his own skin. People had always expected him to be some sort of great and powerful wizard, like his parents, and by people Neville mostly meant his overbearing relatives. He still remembered the time Uncle Algie had dropped him out of a window. He'd also been clumsy and awkward, frequently losing things and always forgetting where he should be. As for his house at Hogwarts, Neville had told the hat he should be a Hufflepuff, but like everyone else the hat hadn't listened to him in the slightest.

As such, Neville was increasingly finding that he was enjoying spending a great deal of time as a bear. Being a bear was quite nice. You had thick, warm fur all over your body, so that you were always comfortable no matter how cold it got. If someone was trying to hurt you, becoming a bear was a sure fire way to ensure that they either regretted it, or swiftly found something new to do with their time. And the form, as Braxiss had told Neville, was terribly comfortable for sleeping in.

That was what Neville was doing now, laying on a warm stone overlooking Lake Elune'ara, and dreaming of the first time he'd become a bear. Braxiss had been training him for a year by that point, and Neville had gotten very adapt at healing spells and nature spells. He could call up roots from the ground with ease, or bestow healing seeds upon someone to cure them of wounds or ailments.

"Ah, young Neville. You're becoming quite the druid," Braxiss had said as they wandered through the woods, hunting for herbs.

"Can humans become druids? Elyssia asked, skipping along beside Braxiss, Night Fury flouncing along behind her. The cub had gotten much larger now, about the size of a panther, but it was still young and growing, and was currently wearing a crown of peacebloom upon its head.

"I just want to be an herbalist," Neville said, stooping and carefully cliping away a bit of Mageroyal. "Or maybe an alchemist. I'm getting pretty good at that."

Braxiss bobbed his muzzle, as he was currently ambling along as a bear. "Indeed, indeed. Ah, but there is so much more you can learn. You're rather intune with nature and her wils, young human. Why, you already have quite the rapport with the plants and growing things. Your garden is quite lovely."

"Thank you, sir," Neville said, blushing at the praise. Braxiss was so unlike his past teachers and mentors. He was gentle, kind, and slow to anger. Though as the satyre's who had attacked them on the way to Moonglade had learned, very dangerous when he was roused. It had taken weeks for Neville to get all the blood out of his robes.

"Yeah, and you're a really good cook too!" Elyssia agreed. "Better than me anyway. I always burn stuff. And Braxiss just wants to eat everything raw which is super gross. So you're the best cook too!"

"I just like eating," Neville muttered, looking down at his feet. He was increasingly aware that Elyssia was very pretty, though he had been shocked to learn she was over 100 years old. Apparently, that was barely qualified as an adult for night elves, but it did make him feel very young, as he was only 15.

"Me too! Oh, I've got to find us some dinner. Quick, make sure none of the dyrads are following us. They really don't like it when I kill a deer. But eating fruits and vegetables is so boooorrriinnngggg. I need meat! Elune meant for us to eat meat, otherwise why would we have sharp teeth?"

Night Fury rumbled his agreement. The dryads strongly disapproved of the moonsaber's hunting habits, and had chastised the beast more than once. Night Fury mostly only hunted to eat, though like any cat he played with his food first.

"Well, I was thinking, you've done so well with the basic druid spells, it's time for you to learn something more," Braxiss said. "And here we are! The glen of the Great Bear Spirit, the son of Ursoc, Baloo."

"Oh. Should I be here? These are like, super secret druid rituals and stuff," Elyssia said. "But then I'd have to leave you and I'd fail in my duty! Oh, these moral dilemmas always give me a headache."

Neville, on the other hand, froze, as he realized the great boulder in the center of the glen was not a boulder at all, but instead a massive bear. Slowly, the boulder stood, yawning hugely. Then, it padded forward, the earth trembling slightly under its weight. The bear seemed to shimmer and give off pale starlight, as if it were not fully present in the same plane of reality as the rest of them.

"Ishnu'alah, Shan'do Baloo. I bring before you a young druid who seeks further wisdom," Braxiss said, dipping his head between his forepaws.

"Greetings, young Braxiss," the Bear Spirit rumbled. "I see before me two young ones. One smells of the hunt, and of innocence. The other of fresh soil and flowers, but also of something I have not sensed before. Tell me, young ones, do you wish to learn the path of the Bear?"

"Nope!" Elyssia said, waving happily to the bear. "I like cats better. Also, I'm not a druid. I'm a Sentinel! Well, Sentinel recruit anyway, but I'm really sure I'll be made a for real Sentinel once I come back from my mission!"

"I, um, I don't know that I'm really suited to the path of the Bear," Neville said nervously, shuffling his feet as he tried to meet the spirit's gaze. "I'm really just decent at herbalism and such. I don't know that I'm fierce enough to be a bear."

To Neville's shock and horror, the bear spirit reared up, towering over him, then roared loud enough to nearly deafen Neville. He felt like running and nearly wet himself, but he raised his staff, conjuring up a protective barrier of roots which he cast upon Elyssia, while creating a wall of vines and roots to ensnare Baloo should he charge. He didn't know what good it would do, be he had to do something. He couldn't let Elyssia be harmed just because she was willing to follow him around and keep him safe.

Instead of charging though, Baloo dropped down, sitting on his haunches. The bear rumbled deep in his chest, laughing at Neville. "Not fierce, you say? And yet you stand before my roar and defy me, young one. I think you have more strength in your heart than you realize."

"Wow. Your breath is like, super smelly. When was the last time you brushed your teeth?" Elyssia demanded, pinching her nose and waving her hand before her face.

"Not now Elyssia," Neville hissed, waving his hand behind his back to shush the bubbly hunter.

"Being one with the spirit of the bear is not simply about being fierce, however. Those who walk the path of the Claw must put themselves in front of danger, protecting others as a mother bear protects her cubs. They must face danger and not flinch, ignore wounds and continue on, and above all, protect the wilds and those who call them home. Can you do this, young druid?" Baloo asked.

Neville paused, considering. Slowly, he nodded. "I...I think so."

"Very good. Now, hold still." Baloo stood on all four legs, walking forward. He breathed on Neville, his pungent breath washing over him. The world seemed to twist and spin, and Neville blacked out for a moment. When he came too, he found he was on the ground. He tried to stand up, but it felt awkward, his legs shorter than he was used to. He ended up falling over, and when he tried to speak, only a roaring growl came out.

"Oh man, Neville this is so cool! You're a bear!" Elyssia said, bouncing up and down and clapping. "And a really cute bear too! Oh, I just want to hug you!"

Neville tried to respond to that, getting up on all fours, but found he could only grunt and growl.

"The trial of the Bear has begun," Baloo proclaimed. "You and your young companion must go to the Cave of Ursoc. There, you will face great obstacles. You must protect your friend, showing both the strength and courage of the bear, no matter what you face. Do you understand."

Neville nodded, unsure of how to communicate. He looked at Braxiss and tried to growl a question.

"No, no, I think I'd best stay here," Braxiss said, yawning and lying down. "I've already passed the trials you see. Don't fret, young Neville. You'll do quite well I'm sure."

"Come on Neville, we can do it!" Elyssia said, turning and scampering off. Neville sighed, sitting down and glancing towards Baloo.

"The cave is that way," Baloo said, pointing with a claw. "Follow the trail until you come to a waterfall. The cave is located behind it."

Neville nodded, sitting on his haunches and waiting. After two minutes, a sheepish Elyssia returned. "So, like, I realized I don't actually know where the cave is."

Nodding, Neville turned and waddled off into the forest, Elyssia following after him with Night Fury running ahead and returning, sometimes with a small critter in his mouth. To Neville's surprise, the cat dropped one at his feet, eyeing him curiously. Before he knew what he was doing, Neville had snapped up the creature and eaten it. His first instinct was to feel ill, but it had tasted so good he couldn't help but lick his lips and wish for another.

"Ew. Are you going to start eating everything raw like Braxiss? That's like, super not cool."

After an hours march, they came to the waterfall. Neville gingerly lowered himself into the water, then found he was quite capable of swimming in this form. He had plenty of fat, which made him buoyant, and he bear paddled to the waterfall, clambering up the slick rocks and into the cave. He paused to shake himself off, looking around.

A moment later, Elyssia swam up, climbing out and pausing to wring water out of her green braide. "Alright! So what do we do now?"

Neville shrugged, then walked forward with caution, ready to face whatever he might. Night Fury padded alongside him, last to get out of the pool. Like tigers, moonsabers rather enjoyed a swim, and the young cat had been frolicking in the spray. The cat faded into the shadows, though Neville could still sense it there by scent, which was much improved.

The cave smelled of moss and mushrooms, and was lit by luminous mold growing over the walls. In places, Neville could see images of a bear like people carrying spears fighting demons, or worshiping a great bear.

"furbolgs," Elyssia whispered, pointing to the inscriptions. "But are they the nice kind, or the crazy kind?"

Neville tried to answer, but then remember he was a bear and just grunted. How could Braxiss talk, but not him? He paused beside a pool of dark water, gazing at his reflection. Unlike Braxiss, who had elements of a night elf in his bear form, Neville at the moment was just a plain old brown bear, one that looked to be just out of its mothers care and in its first year alone. He grunted, then ambled off further into the cave.

Before long, Neville heard the sound of snoring ahead of him. He paused, sniffing at the air.

"What is it?" Elyssia asked in a very loud whisper as she tried to edge ahead of Neville.

Neville grunted, shouldering her aside and continuing forward. Ahead, the cave got slightly lighter, moonlight filtering in. He rounded a bend in the passage and beheld a small forest thicket. There were small trees reaching up towards a hole in the roof, and grass and flowers growing along the edge of a large stone shelf. At first Neville thought perhaps the shelf was empty, but as he watched, he saw that upon it sat a large, ghostly furlong. The bear man was semitransparent, seeming to be made out of starlight, and lacking any substance. He was gazing up at the stars, a mace and shield made of moonlight and emblazoned with the crest of Ursoc at his side.

"So, you have come," a voice said, echoing all around Neville. "Tell me, young druid. Do you have within you the spirit of Ursoc?"

Neville rumbled uneasily, unsure of the answer.

The ghostly furbolg stood, taking up its weapons and turning to face Neville. "The face me, child of the forest! Face me and prove your strength!"

"Neville! Behind us!" Elyssia called, and from down the passage the sound of drums could be heard, echoing unnaturally within the passage. Soon, dancing ghostly flames came down the passage, held by smaller furbolgs made of shadow and starlight.

Grabbing Elyssa's leg in his teeth, Nevill threw her into the chamber and up against the wall of an alcove. He turned to face the onslaught of ghost warriors, roaring out his defiance. He could sense Night Fury prowling around the edge of the cavern, but had to ignore the moonsaber for now.

"Ow! Urgh, um, there's a lot of them, but I got my bow and arrows and my sword! I'll watch your back Neville!"

Neville held his ground, resisting the urge to charge as that would expose both him and Elyssia to danger. He'd fought before, against beasts, sartrys and corrupted furbolgs but he'd always stayed back and cast spells before. He roared his defiance, rearing up on his hind legs. The shadow warriors answered in kind, and the battle was joined.

The transparent clubs and axes bit into Neville's hide, causing wounds just as real as a metal or wooden weapon. He lashed out with his claws and fangs, battering aside his foes. Elyssia fired arrows from behind him, and Night Fury would pounce on the enemy from behind, then fade away again into the shadows as they fell. Soon though, Neville was bleeding from a dozen wounds, an axe embedded in his side. The pain drove him into a frothing rage, but he did not advance, holding his ground and defending Elyssia. At last, the smaller warriors were defeated, vanishing into the night. Suddenly, Neville found himself back in his own body, wounded and bleeding before the massive spirit furbolg.

"So, young druid. How will you face me?" the creature rumbled in Neville's mind. "Will you come at me again as a bear, all ferocity, or will you find another way?"

Neville panted, drawing upon the life around him, and closing his wounds. He looked up at the furbolg, and saw not anger, but pain.

"Your people," he said. "They're gone. Corrupted or dead. Why are you here?"

"I am bound," the spirit replied. "This is my task. To test those who would wield the power of Ursoc. I am Urbrak, son of Urgog, scion of Ursoc."

"You're wounded," Neville observed, looking at rents in the spirit. "But you would still fight me?"

"I must test your resolve," the spirit answered.

"Um, Neville, I'm out of arrows. Should I like, hit it or something?" Elyssia asked.

Slowly, Neville walked forward, extending his hand until it rested upon the ghostly body of Urbrak. He closed his eyes, drawing upon the life within him, and the echo within the furbolg spirit. Slowly, the wounds upon Urbrak's body closed, until Neville dropped to one knee, panting and exhausted. "I don't like to fight," Neville gasped. "But I will protect my friends. Perhaps, with your wounds healed, we can be friends now."

Urbrak nodded. "You have strength, and courage. But the path of Ursoc is not the one for you. Still, you will be able to call upon the Strength of the Bear when it is needed." Extending a talon, Urbrak carved a starry symbol upon Neville's shoulder, the fabric ripping away under his claw. The tattoo glowed faintly, and Neville felt a wild rush of strength, that faded away after a moment.

"Go now, young druid. You will not learn the deeper mysteries of fang and claw, but know that you will always have the strength of heart to face any challenge. Farewell."

With that, the bear spirit vanished, leaving Neville standing upon four legs.

"Oh my Goddess! Neville! You look...ha ha ha! Oh you look so funny! Hehehehe, I've never seen a druid look like that before!" Elyssia giggled and pointed.

Neville frowned, then found he could focus, and change. He stood once more upon two legs. "Well, let's go find out then." He tried not to blush: Elyssia laughing at him was very awkward for some reason.

Outside in the pool, Neville focused upon the strength within him, and found himself turned into a bear. He let out a grunt of shock, putting a paw on his face. His muzzle was short, shorter even than a night elves. His fur was also very pale, and his eyes did not glow like Braxiss' did. Instead they looked very human, the same shade of hazel his normally were. He didn't think he looked that funny, except…

He groaned. His front fangs were flat, and sort of resembled a pair of buck teeth. He glanced at Elyssia, who put her hands in front of her mouth and giggled, then knelt down and petted Neville on the head.

"It's OK Neville, I'm sure you're a very fierce bear. Even if you sort of look like a rabbit."

Neville changed back, and then felt rather awkward as Elyssia continued to gently pet him on the head. "I'm, uh, alright I guess. It was sort of nice, being a bear."

"Well you'll just have to practice at it. You were like, super brave! You smacked all those ghost things and were really tough! Didn't all that hurt you?"

"A bit. But mostly it just made me angry. I didn't want them to hurt you, you know?"

Elyssia giggled and threw her arms around Neville's neck, which made him blush even redder. "You silly! I'm supposed to protect you, not the other way around! Now come on, let's go back before Braxiss wanders off and we have to spend another week finding him."

Back at the glade, Braxiss was simply napping, though Baloo came over and nodded at Neville, who turned back into a bear.

"Very good. I see that you will not choose the path of the bear, but that the guardian has marked you all the same. Not all druids walk the path of the Claw, but even for those who do not, having the strength of the bear to call on in times of need is vital. You must spend time in your new form, learning how it moves, how it thinks, and of course, how it talks. Go now, with my blessing, young druid."

Back in the present, Neville rolled, over, coming to his feet. He sniffed the air, smelling fresh Goldthorn blooms on the wind. He yawned,, then wandered over to Elyssia, who was fishing in the lake. He nudged her with his nose.

"Hmmm? Yeah? I'm awake!" Elyssia said, jerking up right.

"I'm going to go gather some herbs in the foothills," Neville rumbled. "Our stock of agility potions is running low and they're always a good item to sell."

"Oh ok. What about Braxiss? He still in the barrow den?"

Braxiss had retired to the barrow den not long after the ritual of the Bear, saying he needed to look for Neville's home in the Emerald Dream. Personally, Neville thought the druid just wanted to take a long nap with no one bothering him.

"Yes. Though I can protect us," Neville answered.

Elyssia giggled and patted Neville on the head. "No silly, that's my job! Come on, Night Fury! We'll catch you more fish later."

Together, they headed up into the hills. Even though trolls and satyrs were known to trespass in the glade, Neville felt as though he could handle it. He wasn't the same scared little boy now. He was a druid, and nature was his ally. He had the heart of the bear.

 _Authors Note:_

 _The next arch, Ronald Weasley and the Watchers of Azeroth, is shaping up to be a long one, even more than H'ari P'tor and the Scourge of Valiance Keep. As such, it will also be broken up into multiple chapters that I will try to post as close together as I can, but I'll be traveling over the summer so you may have to wait a week or two between them._


	17. Wakes the Dreamer I

_I̸n t͢he ̨halls͢ òf́ dea̡t̀h̕ ͏it ̕lies ̴d͏rea̵mi̢n̴g͜.̸ ̨G͘od̡ ͞of d̨ea̷th, m͞a͘w o҉f͏ hung͡er._

 _͜_

 _̢Y͟o҉g͘g̸ ̨S͏aroņ_

"Come on Ronald, you offered to help, so it's no use complaining," Hermione lectured as she walked up the ramp onto the airship.

"For your information, when I offered to help, I bloody well didn't think you'd be using me as a bloody mule!" Ron shot back, lugging the cart of various engineering supplies up the gangway. He glared at Hermione. She'd been nothing but trouble since she'd showed up a few days ago to join the expedition. He was trying to be friendly, but nothing seemed to work.

Hermione sniffed and shook her head. "You're supposed to be the big strong man, surely you won't make a delicate little flower like me carry all that up here will you?"

Ron muttered something vile under his breath, until Pizyap hopped up on the cart. "Oi! Off you damned demon!" Ron glared at the imp until it ran up the gangway and hopped up on Hermione's shoulder. "You really should get rid of that thing. It's evil, Hermione, completely unnatural."

"People say the same thing about gingers," Pizyap declared, sticking his long barbed tongue out at Ron.

"If you two are done with yer yammerin' it's high time we took off!" Brann Bronzebeard called from up on the poop deck.

Ron hastily hauled the cart of supplies up on deck, where it was swarmed by various gnomish engineers. "Honestly Hermione, I still can't believe you're going on this expedition. How on earth is 'social explosiveering' a science?"

"Well I don't know about Earth, but on Azeroth it certainly is," Hermione answered, then ran off to join the gnomes in assembling whatever contraption they needed for the expedition.

"There's somethin' wrong with that lass," Mylra remarked as she came up from below to join Ron. "Stormbeak and Sharpbeak are all settled in now. I have to say, it's right amusing to be having your gryphon flown to Northrend."

"Aye, though I can't say I trust this pile o' metal," Ron said, gazing uncertainly at the giant engines as the spun to life.

"Relax kiddo!" K Lee said happily, wiping engine grease from her forehead as she slammed a panel shut on the engine. "Flying is the safest way to travel!"

"Aye, I know that, but riding a gryphon seems a mite safer than this thing," Ron said.

"The _Skybreaker_ is a fine ship!" K Lee declared. "Fit and ready to go! We'll be sure to uncover dozens of lost secrets."

Ron went over to the rail to watch as the ground below them fell away and the Skybreaker rose into the air above Menethil Harbor. Soon, the great engines pushed them out over the waves, and the shore behind them faded away.

That evening Ron, sought out Hermione, who was hard at work below decks on some engineering contraption that he didn't really fathom.

"So, ever think about home?" Ron asked casually, leaning on the door.

Hermione looked up at Ron, her face stained with grease as she used a glowing green wrench to adjust something. "Are you asking if I'm homesick? I told you, I'm not, I'm quite alright here." Then she turned back to tweaking the glowing green crystals, a look on concentration on her face.

Ron sighed and almost turned away, but made himself continue. "I mean, don't you ever miss say, your mum's cooking?"

"My mother was a dreadful cook; my father did any cooking if there was any to be done though honestly we mostly ate takeout or frozen meals," Hermione said, not looking up from her work. "I actually prefer gnomish cuisine. It's very extreme: either so spicy you burn your mouth or so sweet it makes your teeth ache or so sour that your mouth puckers."

"That sounds...nice," Ron said hesitantly. "But, you know, what about your old home? Or cold mornings where you had tea with your family? Christmas, where you opened presents-"

"I do not condone celebrating reconstituted pagan holidays for a fictional deity," Hermione said in an irritated tone.

"Oh for the love of fire Hermione I just met what is literally a manifestation of all that is good and and holy in the world and am on a literal mission from the Light and you can summon up literal demons with the snap of your fingers and you're telling me you don't believe in God?" Ron exploded.

"I have never seen any empirical evidence that god or gods exist," Hermione sniffed.

"Oh they both totally exist," Pizyap put in from his perch up in the rafters. "There's loads of gods running around. You stay in the summoning business you'll totally run into a few. Most of them are complete dicks. As for capital G god, well, the less said, the better."

"Well, the point stands that I've never personally seen any evidence of such," Hermione declared. "Gnomes don't believe in anything beyond what they can see, hear, smell, and summon from the twisting nether with the right spell."

"You are utterly unbelievable," Ron muttered. "And to think we used to be such good friends."

Hermione looked up with a hurt expression, but Ron didn't seem to notice. "Good luck with your 'social explosiveering' project. Just don't bloody well try and explode me." Ron stalked off, leaving Hermione alone with her demon.

Hermione bent back down, using her shoulder to wipe away a tear that had formed. Pizyap hopped down from the rafters, silently handing Hermione one of the tools she needed.

"I was so excited when I found out Ron had joined the expedition just like us," Hermione said in a quiet voice. "I like K Lee and Wilfred, but they're my teachers. I just...I do want friends. I just don't know how."

"Eh, screw 'em." Pizyap shrugged. "I ain't never had any friends. And don't you start askin' if we're friends. We got a contract, not a friendship."

"He's just so bloody thick," Hermione growled, reaching in and forcibly connecting two wires. She was careless, and got a bit of a shock. "Ow! Can't he see that binding demons is no different than binding elementals? It's all magic, it doesn't matter where it comes from."

"Least that paladin ain't around," Pizyap commented, handing Hermione the first aid kit. "Them holy types always give me the willies."

"Well, at least we have a great deal to look forward to," Hermione declared as she taped up her electrical burn. "A chance to find new materials for the thought outsourcer, and a new social experiment that could forward the entire field of explosiveering."

Pizyap rolled his eyes. "I still say you made that up."

"I do miss home sometimes," Hermione whispered, looking down at the bandages on her hands. "Eating dinner with my mother and father. Going to the library and chatting with Mrs. Tanner about the new books that came out that week. Walks in the park with my Aunt Ruby. But...but there's still so much to see and do here. And...and if I went back, would I ever want to leave?"

"Eh, I think about leaving sometimes," Pizyap said, sitting on a spool of wire and leaning back. "But honestly you're by far the most entertaining master I've ever had. Beats the hell out of serving in some eredar lord's legion or some crap like that. I'll take wacky experiments over getting roasted by the defenders of whatever new world the Legion is after any day."

Hermione turned to Pizyap, coming out of her reminiscence with the opportunity for new information. "Have you ever been free?"

"Pfff. No. I'm an imp. First, I had to serve my broodmother as a feral imp. Then I got rounded up by an eredar and used as canon fodder for a while. Then somehow my name got put in a warlock's grimeour about a hundred years ago and I've been bouncing around the twisting nether ever since getting summoned to Draenor and Azeroth."

Hermione's eyebrows shot up. "You're over a hundred years old?"

"Eh, time's a funny thing. You see, I got bound to some magic that makes it so I can't die. Happens to all the demons in the Burning Legion. We just like, pop back to existence after being nothin' for awhile. And trust me, as an imp you get squashed a bunch so you spend a lot of time in the nether."

"Do you want to be free?" Hermione asked. "Say I dismissed you and never summoned you again. Would you like that?"

"Nah. I'd just be nothin' until some warlock or demon lord called me into existence again. This is more fun. I mean, you haven't dismissed me once since you summoned me, right? If you did summon an imp again it could be me, could be someone else. Never know."

"Interesting," Hermione mused. "I think that merits further research. I'll have to find a way to summon you specifically if I ever need another imp."

Pizyap squinted up at Hermione, then shrugged and lay back again, closing his eyes. "Yeah, sure, whatever."

Down below, Ron was preening Sharpbeak's feathers, brooding as he cared for his gryphon. He made certain not to hurt his mount however, as it was perilous to have improperly cared for feathers when in the extreme cold.

"Somethin' botherin' ya lad?"

Ron looked up to see Mylra in the next stall, caring for her own gryphon. He shrugged. "Had a chat with Hermione. When I heard she was joining the expedition, I don't know. I thought we could reconnect. But...I don't even know why we were friends in the first place. It was Harry who brought us together, I think."

"Aye, it's tough to grow up and realize that some o' yer friends were only yer friends cause ye had a mutual friend. Or that ye've drifted apart over the years as ye find new interests and life goes on," Mylra agreed.

Ron nodded, looking back down as he carefully used a brush and oil to clean the feathers, checking for parasites and injuries.

"But she's a right strange one, that lass," Mylra added after a moment. "Consortin' with demons and gnomes and such. Still, it wouldn't hurt to be polite to her when ye see her. Warlocks have powerful magic, even if I'd never want one in me own home."

"Aye, she'd be useful in a fight I suppose," Ron admitted. "But I don't think we'll ever be so close as we once were again."

"Only natural lad," Mylra told him. "Never you worry."

After a few minutes of cleaning, Ron and Mylra bunked down with their birds. After a few minutes of restlessness, Ron whispered. "Mylra, you awake?"

"Aye."

"Do you miss the family? You know, da and ma, and well, your brothers."

Ron heard Mylra shift around in the straw. A moment later, her head poked over the divider between their two gryphons. "I do. Every time I'm gone. Thinkin' of Earth, are ye?"

Ron nodded, fighting back a sudden urge to weep. "I miss them all so much," he croaked. "But Hermione...she doesn't miss her family at all. It makes me so mad, and I'm not even sure why."

Mylra's head disappeared, and a moment later she walked around to lay down beside Ron, patting him on the back. "It's OK lad. I still miss Donnel and Andrey. Been years since they died, but I still miss them. Always will. Sometimes the pain comes back, and it's all I can do to find a quiet place to have a good cry. But I'll be here for ye. I know it ain't much, but ye can be the brother I need, and I can be the sister ye need as well."

Ron rolled over and hugged Mylra tightly, letting out a strangled sob. They seperated, and Ron wiped his nose. He noticed that Mylra had to brush away a few tears herself. "Thanks. I know I'd miss you as well, sister."

"And if ye ever leave, I'll miss ye as well, brother. But for now, we got each other, and that's enough."

Several days later, the airship arrived over Northrend. To Ron's surprise, the entire place didn't seem to be infested with undead, but rather was a picturesque landscape of craggy hills and rushing fjords, with plentiful greenery. Below, Ron caught sight of massive giants striding through the hills carrying great trees as weapons and using what appeared to be parts of buildings as decoration.

"Wouldn't want to tangle with one o' those bastards," Ron commented to Hermione, who was also up on deck.

"I wonder if I'm going to need to learn a new language to conduct our survey," Hermione mused.

Since that appeared to be a complete non sequitur, Ron ignored it, going back to scanning the ground below. Suddenly, an alarm gong began to ring out.

"Approaching dragon riders!" a loudspeaker shouted "Alert! Alert! Approaching dragon riders!"

Ron leapt to a rope, swinging down the line into the bay, where the gryphons were screeching in protest at the racket. "Settle down boy, settle down, go to get you saddled," Ron said as he grabbed his gear. A moment later Mylra was there with him, saddling Stormbeak.

"It's the bloody vyrkul," Mylra told Ron. "We've dealt with Kvaldir raiders and such in the northern Hinterlands before. Never seen them riding bloody dragons though."

Ron attempted to answer, but his voice was drowned out as the ship shuddered with the boom of a broadside, followed by the sharp crack of rifles and other smaller guns. Shaking his head, Ron mounted Sharpbeak and followed Mylra as they dived out of the bottom of the Skybreaker.

Directing his Gryphon in sweeping patrol, Ron soon saw the dragon riders. They were no longer approaching the Skybreaker from the side or below, having been chased off by the guns. However, they were now climbing for altitude, going above the arc of the Skybreakers guns. It was from above that the airship was the most vulnerable; while it's deck guns could be aimed upward, it couldn't unleash the devastating broadsides or use it's belly guns, and it had little to defend itself from an attack directly overhead.

Ron climbed upward along with Mylra, calling upon Reth's totem. His axe ignited with flames, and Ron pointed it at one of the dragon riders. A fireball surged forward, but the dragon rider banked, dodging the blast. The rider raised an axe of his own, bellowing a warcry. As they closed, Ron realized that both dragon and rider were far larger than he had initially thought. The Vrykul had similar proportions to a human, but was far more massive, easily 9 feet tall. The dragons were far larger than the drakes Ron had seen before, heavy and primitive looking creatures with massive toothy jaws.

Thunder roared, and two dragon riders were struck from the sky by Myrla's magic. Ron closed with a dragonrider and let out a scream, raising Reth's totem. The fire elemental lept forth, landing upon the dragon and racing back and forth upon its wings. The beast screamed in pain and rage as its rider bellowed his fury, hacking at Reth with his axe. The fire elemental let out a final burst of flame as it dodged the axe, leaping back to Ron as the dragon plummeted from the skies.

As Ron banked Sharpbeak around, he heard the roar of approaching engines. From the Skybreaker, several gnomish flying machines arose, their whirling motors belching noxious fumes as their guns chattered away. The dragon riders turned back at this new threat, their numbers too few to make a successful attempt upon the airship. Ron stayed on station for another half an hour, watching carefully. Once or twice, lone dragon riders approached, but they steered clear of the circling gryphons. At last, they made it to Westguard Keep, and Ron and Mylra landed to rest their mounts.

At Westguard, Hermione and her demon departed. When she approached Ron, he turned his back on her, sharpening his axe. He heard Hermione walked up behind him, then let out a disgusted snort and stomped off. Ron felt guilty as she went, and was tempted to turn and apologize, but he forced himself to ignore it. Let her go. She had no respect for family and consorted with demons. He was done with her.

A small part of Ron felt like it died as Hermione left, but he ignored it. He was going to find his way home, one way or another. The hard part was, now a rather large part of him didn't seem to know where that was.

After a stay of three days at Westguard Keep for refit and repair, the Skybreaker once more for the floating city of Dalaran. It was another two days flight over the Dragonblight, where Ron saw great dragons flying in the distance. These were not the brutish beasts that the Vrykul had flown, but the noble and majestic beasts of the Five Flights. Ron had known of a Green Flight grove near the Aerie, but few mortals ventured there, even the shaman.

Now, however, the dragons were at war. The Blue flight had declared war on all mortals, and the Black flight was a corrupted and violent servant of evil. The three remaining free flights, the Red, Green, and Bronze, fought against both their fallen kin and the Scourge. The Skybreaker stayed well out of the flight paths of the dragons, keeping out of the business of the Flights. For his part, Ron almost yearned for battle, if only to forget his troubles.

At the dawn of the second day out of Winterguard, Ron was keepin watch from the prow of the Skybreaker, communing with the storm spirits and keeping them calmed. As he soothed the winds and the storm broke, the clouds cleared, and Ron peered through the mists. He started as he saw a great shape looming ahead of them. He started to shout a warning that a mountain was ahead, but his voice caught in his throat. The sunlight struck the object ahead, it glinted off gilded spires.

"That's not a mountain," Ron breathed. "Dalaran."

Though it was yet miles ahead of them, Ron could clearly see the sprawling city. Crystals floated and glowed in the dawn light, not only with the suns rays, but with an inner arcane light. The buildings shone like diamonds, their polished marble reflecting the sun in a dazzling display. Trees could be seen in various parks and alongside the causeways, swaying gently in the morning breeze. It was truly a splendid sight to behold; one of the great cities of Azeroth that put both the Aerie and the ruins of Shattrath to shame.

The most astonishing thing, however, was that Dalaran did not rest upon solid rock. It floated, on a level with the Skybreaker upon a great mound of earth and stone. It was several miles above the land below, floating even above the low layer of clouds. Ron whooped for joy, his troubles momentarily forgotten at the majesty of the sight.

As they approached, Ron saw other skyships docked alongside the city. Some were gunships like the Skybreaker, either built by the Horde or the Alliance and bristling with guns and armor. Others were goblin trading blimps, far more ramshackle with a multitude of patches along their balloon in a cascade of colors, with various advertisements draped over them showing their wares. There were even a few crystalline vessels that Ron was certain were of Draenei make hovering at the docks that had been built along the edge of the city. A steady stream of traffic in the form of gryphons, wyverns, bats, chimeras, hippogriffs, and even dragons were taking off and landing from several platforms on the city and on large hunks of earth that floated nearby, tethered by lines and magical bonds.

The Skybreaker made for the made dockyard, berthing beside a large Horde gunship. An orc warrior on watch saluted Ron as the Skybreaker came into dock, and Ron returned the salute respectfully. He climbed back onto the deck, where Brann was organizing his expeditions departure.

"Will we have time to explore the city?" Ron asked Brann eagerly.

"Hmm? What's that? Oh, yes, we'll be here a few days while I try to find guides for us," Brann told Ron. "You go and have your fun lad. Draw yer pay from the quartermaster, and keep a close eye on your purse. All sorts in Dalaran these days."

Ron quickly saw to Sharpbeak, then put on his best kilt and tunic and went with Mylra out into the city. It was now midday and the docks were bustling with activity as soldiers and merchants went about their business. The air was filled with the roar of engines, the hum of arcane energy, and the drunken singing of soldiers returning from leave.

"This is even better than Ironforge!" Ron shouted to Mylra.

His sister laughed, shaking her head. "Ron, we were no in Ironforge proper, only ever the gates. Dalaran is no a city of dwarves; it's a human and elven city o' mages and wizards."

"Bit like Diagon Alley back home, then," Ron said wistfully. When Myrla cocked an eyebrow at him, Ron forced a laugh and shook his head. "Nothing. Come on, let's go find something to eat. Gnomish food gives me a bloody stomach ache."

They made their way into the city proper, the broad streets packed with every race imaginable. Stoic tauren carefully made their way through the crowd, ensuring their great hooves didn't crush any of the smaller races. Humans shouldered their way forward, shouting and laughing louder than any other race, save perhaps the goblins who barked their wares at every corner. There were dwarves too, elbowing people aside and hauling heavy burdens. The only race that didn't have to jostle were the rare undead, who everyone avoided and eyed suspiciously. Ron saw guards in purple robes with the sigil of the Kirin Tor scanning the crowd with magic, paying special attention to the Forsaken.

"I thought we were bloody here to put a stop to them," Ron muttered as a Forsaken in deathstalker armor went past him.

An orc warrior next to him grunted. "We do as the Warchief commands. For now, Sylvanas and her dogs are our allies."

Ron was slightly taken aback that the orc had spoken to him, but nodded. He and Mylra stopped at a stall that sold steaming hunks of meat on a stick and large mugs of ale. They pressed up against a building, licking grease from their hands and sucking down the ale. They returned the mugs for a copper a piece, then continued on. Mylra found a clothier and went inside to buy some warmer cloaks, while Ron waited outside and studied a leatherworkers wears, looking for new riding gloves.

He was picking up a pair of drake skin gauntlets to examine then when a hand fell on his shoulder.

"Georgina, I did not expect to find you here. Have you spoken to Khadgar yet?

Ron started, turning around with the gloves still in his hands to find a tall figure in full platemail looking down on him. "Who the bloody hell's Georgina?"

The warrior started, swiftly removing their hand and taking half a step back. "Light! I did not-" The warrior cleared their throat, and their voice suddenly deepened. "Your pardon, sir. I thought you were...someone else. You have the look of a friend of mine."

"Not too many humans walking around in Highlands garb," Ron said dryly. "Yer friends an odd one. And who are ye?"

The warrior jerked slightly as if in shock, then slammed a gauntlet fist to breastplate. "Forgive my ill manners. Call me...Llane. I am a warrior of Stormwind, here to stand against the Scourge and whatever other evils plague this land."

Ron looked up at the warrior, nodding. "Aye, lots of folks here to do that. I'm here with Brann Bronzebeard meself. Quite the suit of armor ya got there. The steel looks to be fine made, though that's an odd sort of helmet. Not many roaring lion helms, but that one's nice work. Is it just ornamental, or would that piece hold up in a fight?"

Llane reached up, touching his helmet. It was worked in the form of a snarling lion's maw, with the jaws mostly hiding his face so that only his blue eyes and often broken nose could be clearly seen. "This was...is...a family heirloom, of sorts. My family has long served Stormwind and her peoples. I assure you, it is battle tested, and made of the finest dwarven steel."

"Aye, I can see that. Bronzebeard work by the look of it, not something that came out of the forges of the Aerie," Ron said, nodding in satisfaction at the look of the piece. "Worked with mithril, yes?"

"You, human, are you going to buy those gloves, or wave them about all day?" the high elven merchant demanded of Ron. "Either put them down or purchase them. They are 15 gold pieces, fine drake skin."

Ron blanched and made to put the gloves down. "Ach, too much for me."

"He will take them," Llane said fiercely. The warrior reached into their purse, and set down a stack of golden coins.

Ron goggled at the money, then looked up at Llane in astonishment and tried to hand him the gloves. "I don't even bloody know you man, what are ye doin', buying me these gloves? Ye trying to get a favor out o' me?"

"I...no. Consider them a payment for my earlier rudeness. You shall need good gloves, rider of the clans. I see by your garb you are a gryphon rider. You shall need a good grip, in your travels," Llane said firmly, pressing the gloves into Ron's hands.

"I...thank you, I suppose," Ron said, squinting at Llane and trying to figure out the warrior's game. "But I'm Ronald Weasley of the Wildhammer, and a Weasley does not take charity.""You don't say," Llane said dryly. "Well, perhaps I shall say a favor is owed then, and a time may come when I needs must call your debt to account. But I shall do so only in the defense of the Alliance, and of my kin. A fair bargain, do you not think?"

"I...guess?" Ron said. The gloves really were a fine bit of work, and his old ones were rather worn. They would do a good job of both keeping his grip firm and his hands warm in the chill northern air.

"Ronald, who's yer friend?" Mylra said, coming up to him with a bundle of clothing slung on her back.

"Mylra, this is Llane of Stormwind," Ron said, motioning to the warrior. "Llane, this is my sister, Mylra Stormborn of the Aerie. He was...buying me gloves."

"Llane o' Stormwind ye say? Well, yer parents certainly thought highly of ye with a name like that, didn't they," Mylra said, frowning at Llane. "Why are ye buying me little brother gloves now?"

"A gift, Lady Shaman," Llane said, bowing slightly. "However, this is not the place to talk. Please, come with me to A Hero's Welcome. I have a room there with friends. I think mayhaps we have something to discuss."

Ron and Myrla shared a look, then Myrla shrugged. "Well, that is the name o' the inn I was told is the finest in Dalaran. Perhaps we will follow ye there."

Llane led the way through the streets, taking a winding path through back alleys and along major thoroughfares that took them swiftly to the Silver Enclave quarter, the section of Dalaran dominated by the High Elves still loyal to the Alliance. A Hero's Welcome turned out to be a large inn with a placard outfront showing a grinning elven mage hefting a staff and a tankard of ale with his foot resting atop the skull of a dragon. The mage winked at Ron as he made his way inside, and Ron grinning, before a pang of homesickness overcame him. He remembered pictures that moved, and missed them.

Inside the inn, Llane bought Ron and Mylra a mug of beer, then took them to a back table. "Truth be told, I know of you, Ronald Weasley. I work with the archmage Khadgar. He is the Guardian of Azeroth, and knows of your true origin."

"He knows I'm from Earth?" Ron blurted before he could stop himself.

Llane nodded. The warrior had no ale to drink, not having taken off the helmet. "Yes. He knows you came from another world, were sent here with five others."

"Five?" Ron said, puzzled. "But… there's just, well, just me and two others."

Llane muttered something to himself. "You did not know then?"

"Know what?" Ron demanded. "Why did you say there were six of us?"

"There are three more," Llane said after a long moment of silence. "You will meet the others in time."

"Oh bugger me blind, it's not Draco or something is it?" Ron groaned. Then he jerked forward. "My family, are they here, with me?"

"Peace, Ronald," Llane said, holding up his hands in a placating gesture. "They are far from here. And, to the best of my knowledge, they are safe. Light, I said too much. I have sent for Khadgar. He will explain more than I can. He is both wise and powerful."

Ron asked several more questions of Llane, his ale sitting forgotten on the table. Llane was of little help though, giving terse replies. Llane confirmed knoweldge of Harry and Hermione, and that they were both in Northrend and alive.

"Your friend Harry had a near run in with the Scourge a few days back," Llane said. "Khadgar can tell you more. Ah, there he is."

Ron turned to find a mage in dark blue robes striding towards their table, a wooden staff with a carved raven at the head.

"Ah, there you are L-"

"Archmage Khadgar," Llane said, standing and saluting quickly. "These two know I am Llane of Stormwind. I have told them of you as well. They are Ronald Weasley, and Mylra Stormborn. I am afraid I must take my leave, my time grows short. Take care, guardian. These two are...important."

With that, Llane suddenly departed, leaving a confused Ron and Mylra to stare as the warrior hurried upstairs. Khadgar watched Llane go as well, his lips pursed and a thoughtful expression on his face.

Khadgar looked to be a man of middle age, though his hair was stark white. His eyes when he looked at Ron were a deep blue that sparkled with energy. Suddenly, his expression changed, and Khadgar laughed, waving to the bar. "Wine, if you please Isirami. And food for my guests and myself. Some sweet potato bread and whatever meat is handy, I think."

Khagdar stood his staff up on its own as he sat, and the wooden raven suddenly came to life, cawing and fluttering to sit on Khadgar's shoulder as the wooden haft vanished. Ron and Myrla started, but accepted the change. After all, this man was an archmage, and archmages did all sorts of odd things.

"So, you're one of the temporally and spatially displaced youngsters I've heard so much about," Khadgar said, leaning across the table as he peered at Ron. "Hmm. You seem rather ordinary if I may say so. A typical human, all in all."

"I'm human enough," Ron said gruffly, leaning away from the archmage and scowling. "Though I'm of the Aerie now, a Gryphon Rider of Clan Wildhammer."

"So you are," Khadgar agreed, leaning back in his seat. He sat silently, drumming his fingers on the table until the food came. He smiled and thanked the inn keeper, then took a sip of his wine. Ron watched closely all the while, but it was Mylra who broke the silence.

"What in thunder do ye and that daft man in plate want with me little brother," Mylra growled. "That Llane was talking as if there were three more like Ron, Harry and Hermione running about Azeroth. Do ye know of this?"

"Hmm. Llane, well, Llane is, shall we say, a special case," Khadgar said, peering into his wine cup. He took a sip, them looked up and smiled at Mylra. "But I assure you, that individual has nothing but your adoptive brothers best interests at heart. And yours, for that matter. And well, all of Azeroth really, but I assure you young Ron and those from Earth hold a special place in that one's heart."

"That bloody well doesn't answer my question, mage, and ye know it," Mylra growled. "Speak plainly. What do ye want?"

"To safeguard this world and all others from evil," Khadgar said mildly. "Yes, I know of all the strangers from Earth. Harry, and, Hermione you said? Those two I know of. There are in Northrend at this time, or they should be or so I am told. I believe Harry of the Exodar was mixed up in the business at Valiance Keep a few days ago. One of the San'layn was slain there. Nasty business that. I-"

"Who else is here?" Ron burst out. "Do I know them? Can we get back? To Earth, I mean. I know Harry and Hermione want to go but I bloody well want to get home. To see my mum and dad again. I'll miss Mylra and da and ma but...but I have to try."

Khadgar took a long drink of wine, the fed his raven a bit of bread before answering. "You do know them, I think. But it is not yet time for you to know of them, or to meet them. You were told more than you should know now. But I will say this: I do intend that you see your family again, Ronald. Sooner than you know, actually."

Ron's throat suddenly felt as dry as the desert. He took a pull of ale, then cleared his throat. "You…you can send me home?"

"No," Khadgar said, shaking his head. "Not myself. Not yet. I am working on a way for that to happen, mind, but it is not yet ready. But on to other things. You are here with Brann Bronzebeard's expedition, yes?"

Ron and Mylra nodded, Ron stunned beyond words, Mylra frowning and suspicious.

"You require guides and help there. I have been told what awaits you in the Halls of the Watchers." Khadgar shook his head, and his raven cawed, peering at Ron with dark beady eyes. "There are two here who wish to accompany you. They know of the perils that you will face, and they have a mission of their own."

"You know what this Sleeper is?" Mylra demanded.

Khadgar grimaced and shook his head. "Know? I fear not. Suspect? I suspect much. This land...it is stained by something older and fouler than the Scourge. Something that goes to the heart of Azeroth herself. But there is something within the Halls of the Titans that must be retrieved, if possible."

"What is it? Can it help me get home?" Ron asked eagerly.

Khadgar eyed Ron, then shook his head. "I tell you the truth, if it is what I think it is, no, not directly. However: it may be the key to ensuring that you have a home to return to at all."

"Then we'll do it," Ron vowed.

Khadgar nodded and stood. "Then I shall fetch your guides. I will speak with Brann as well: Time itself is against us, and we must move swiftly. Go now; back to your ship. I will see to it your guides are sent there, and that you depart with all haste. The sooner you leave, the sooner you shall see your family again, young Champion."


	18. Wakes the Dreamer II

_W̆ͥͮ̚hͫͤͧ̍̍åt̒ͥ̎ ̈̾ͪͮ̔̔d̿̇oͯ̄e͗̀͊̾̏̓s̋̅͛̐ͤ͂͌ ͮth̒ěͮ͐͋̓͐ ̅dê̓ä́ͣ̑̽͋dͤ gͤͤ̉ͯ̌̓ͮod ̍ͧdͥ̽͂̓̑ȓ̀̍̽͛ͤeaͨ̑͊ͫ͒m̌̒ ̈́̇ͮȍ͑͆͐fͮ̓̿́ͤͬ͛?̐ͤ̊̂̒_

 _ͫ͂̋ͩ_

 _̏͊ͣDͣ̂ͩ͊̈́r̀̌ͤe̿̀͌̌aͮͧͦ̓͋m̉̂́ͯ̉ͬs͌ͧ̈́ͤ͌ ̀͐ͪȯf͋ ̆hũ͋ͬͦ́̚nge͌̃̍r͆̃̈́,͗ͤͥ̑͂̌ ͫͬ̓́͒͛d̈́ͨ͊̓̚r̆͛ͫ̔ͦ͂̂e͒amsͩ̿́̀̏͑́ ͯ͑o͒̀ͪ̇̄̂̅f̈́̅͌̈̍ ͮ̏́̿ͥ̎d̐̑eͦ̿͐͆̐ăͯ͛̔ͩ̔t͌̌̀ͧ̌ḣ,̓ͧ̍ͬ ̿͊dͤ͆ͤr̊̿eaͯ̈́̿̊̊mͣ̓̌s̉ͩ̾͋̆ of̀ͤ́̋ ̅̍ͨaͨ ̓̑͛̔͑̇ͥw̓̔̐ͮor̿̓̇͑̋́ͭlͥͩ͑d̾̒̓̒ ̉ͥ̇̏wͩͪͮi̓̉ẗ́h̔̌̀̄ͬ͌o͐ͭuͬt ̇̈ͬ͐͐ͤt͒ͭ͊i̔͆͒̌͌m̀͊̇͛ͧ̚eͪͮ.ͣ̎_

Ron sprinted back to the Skybreaker, his long legs leaving Mylra behind several times. He forced himself and stop to wait for her, but then would dash ahead again, calling upon lightning to make his body crackle with power to pave a way through the crowds, who swore at his reckless use of magic, but parted for him all the same.

Once there, he paced back and forth, restless and unable to think of anything but the chance he might soon see his family again.

"Lad, I do no want ye to get yer hopes up. This Khadgar is an odd duck, and that Llane an odder bird still. Something isn't quite right, but blast me if I know what," Mylra said.

Ron ignored her, continuing to pace until Brann came out and glared at him.

"What in blazes has gotten into ye lad? I can barely think with ye stomping back and forth on the roof o' me cabin. I thought I told ye to go see the city."

"I did," Ron said, still pacing as he gazed out at the docks. "We met with Archmage Khadgar. He said he might have a way for me to get home, to see my family again."

"What?" Brann frowned, shaking his head. "I thought yer sister was here, with ye."

"It's complicated," Mylra said. "And ye bloody well know he's adopted ye daft moron."

"I wasn't goin' to pry," Brann huffed. "I seen all sorts o' strange things. A dwarf and a human as siblings ain't the wildest by half."

"Prince Bronzebeard," a guard called, hurrying over. "There's two strangers here with a letter from Archmage Khadgar. They say they're the guides ye've been looking for. But by my beard, they're not from Northrend, and they're the oddest pair I've ever seen."

"What makes ye say that?" Brann demanded.

The guard shrugged. "Well one's a bloody demon and the other's one o' them space goats. Ain't they supposed to be servants o' the Light and hate the Legion and all?"

"Now this I have to see," Brann declared, and hurried forward, with Ron and Mylra hot on his heels.

At the foot of the gangplank Ron spied a pair of women waiting for them. One was indeed a draenei, tall with light blue skin and short horns on her forehead. Oddly enough her feet were shod with boots, though ones strangely made to cover a draenei's hooves. She wore heavy armor and bore a cloth wrapped bundle the size and shape of small tree on her back, along with a large axe made of glowing crystal.

The other woman was dark red, with glowing green eyes and rams horns of a powerful demoness. She had sharp fangs and deadly looking talons, but wore priestly robes of silver cloth and bore a glowing crystalline staff. As Ron and the others approached, both women bowed.

"The Light shine upon our meeting," the demoness said, smiling at Ron so that her fangs stood out. "I am Rosalind, my companion is Midna. We were sent here by Archmage Khadgar."

"Khadgar sent us a bloody demoness and a strange draenei?" Brann demanded. "Since when do the Kirin Tor consort with demons, or the draenei for that matter."

Rosalind bristled, but Midna put a calming hand on her companion's shoulder. "Rosalind may appear to be one of the eredar, but I assure you she is a servant of the Light, as am I. Please, take this letter, it shall explain much."

Brann took the offered envelope skeptically, but grunted at seeing a raven pressed into the wax seal. He broke the seal and took out the letter, his eyes racing back and forth as they grew wider and wider. Brann started to mutter to himself as he read, letting out an oath when he came to the end before starting over once more.

"Well what does it say?" Ron demanded, cranning over Brann to get a peak at the letter.

"Not now, lad," Brann snapped, quickly crumpling the paper in his hand before shoving it back in the envelope. He eyed the two strangers for a moment, then nodded. "Well, I suppose with all that ye can be our guides. I take it we must leave at once?"

"Now would be good, yesturday would have been better," Rosalind sniffed. "We have three gryphons ready to ride. Those two have their own mounts, yes? If not, we can obtain more."

"Aye, they do," Brann said, stuffing the envelope in his shirt. "We'll grab our gear and depart at once. By my beard, the very relics o' the Titans...Muradin...yes, we'll go now."

Ron and Mylra both scrambled to collect their own gear and put on cold weather clothes, then flew their gryphons from below the ship up onto the docks, where they found Brann and their two guides already waiting.

"Be ready; the skies of the Storm Peaks are treacherous," Midna warned them. "There are proto drakes, ice elementals, and Scourge in the skies."

"And worse," Rosalind muttered, but did not elaborate.

"Well keep the winds fair and our path clear," Mylra said evenly. "You just watch yerselves. I'll be keepin' an eye on you lasses meself."

"You do that," Rosalind said, rolling her eyes, then turned her gryphon and took off into the skies, the others close behind her.

True to Midna's warning, the winds were treacherous, and Ron and Mylra had to shout loudly and badger the elements with totems, binding spells, and some plain old bullying. Ron almost fell out of his saddle more than once while physically wrestling a nasty wind or ice spirit into submission. Thankfully Sharpbeak was well trained, and kept Ron on his back. Once in frustration, Ron unleashed Reth to beat sense into a particularly feisty ice spirit, causing a burst of heat and flame. That made Rosalind drop back to loudly berate him.

"Idiot! We're not in friendly territory! What if the Scourge see that? What if the proto drakes see that? What if the Light blasted 'fins see that!"

"What's a fin?" Ron asked, then grimaced. "You know what, I don't think I bloody well want to know. Sorry, I'll keep the light show to a minimum, but these are damn stubborn storm spirits."

"Well thank the Light I have a Weasley to contend with them!" Rosalind huffed, then jerked her reins around and flew back ahead of them.

Mylra flew up beside Ron, chortling to herself. "I think she fancies you, lad."

"Oh come off it," Ron snapped. "You're having as much trouble with the spirits here as I am."

"Mayhaps, but she is right. We do no want to attract attention. We've kept the winds fair, but things could turn nasty in a wingstroke if we had a frost wyrm in our slipstream."

They flew for hours through a mountain pass, with peaks towering a mile or more over them despite their already great altitude. These peaks made the Hinterlands seem as little more than hills, and even greater peaks towered in the distance. Thanks to the efforts of Ron and Mylra however, the winds pushed them forward, easing their mounts efforts and speeding their journey.

As the sun set and the air grew ever colder, Ron saw lights on top of a distant peak, which Rosalind and Midna turned their mounts toward. He followed after, Stormbeak's chest going like a bellows beneath him. As they approached, Ron saw that the lights were not only on top of the peak, but carved into the mountain itself. The structures reminded him of Ironforge in many ways, and he wasn't surprised to see dwarven figures mounted upon great eagles flying towards them. When they got closer, Rosalind and Midna called out to them, and the riders waved and motioned them forward, taking up positions ahead and behind the travelers.

They flew up above the top of the cliff, where Ron saw a great spiral pit descending down into the mountain. The pit was over a hundred feet deep with multiple levels, carved from rock and ice. They flew down two levels to an icy cliff sheltered from the winds where several eagles were nesting, their escorts circling overhead. Ron gladly set his weary mount down and stumbled from the saddle, his legs sore and his body and spirit weary from his travels. He first saw to Sharpbeak though, taking off the saddle and beginning to tend to his gryphon.

"Hey there, you with Midna and Ros?" a voice asked, and Ron turned to find a very odd dwarf looking up at him. Though his beard and heighted marked him as a dwarf, his skin was an icy blue, and his eyes white like new snow, though he was not blind.

"I am," Ron said, drawing himself up. "I am Ronald Weasley of the Wildhammer clan."

"Faldorf Bitterchill, of the Frostborn," the stranger said, offering Ron his hand. Thought it was as blue as the rest of him, it was a strong warm grip. "Ye must be the outlanders those two lasses spoke of. Come, we'll see to yer mount, Regent Icebellow wants to meet with ye. Not all as gone accordin' to plan."

Ron reluctantly left Sharpbeak to be cared for by several more Frostborne, but followed after Faldorf into a stone passage lit by torches set in sconces along the wall. The hallway had a familiar feel, the stonework similar to what the Aerie was like, though subtly different as well. It was as though Ron was visiting the home of kin; different in some ways, but with a familiar bend to it.

Faldorf led Ron to a large chamber lined with tables with roaring fires along the walls. Brann and the others were sitting at a table with a Frostborn who wore ornate armor with an iron circlet set on his brow, and Ron hurried over to take a seat with Mylra, who was drinking from a steaming mug of tea. Ron took a mug from the table and sipped it as well, listening as Brann, Midna, and Rosalind talked with the dwarf.

"-we did take your advice, and King Stormheart did no go near Ulduar," the Frostborn was saying. "But then the Earthen came with troubling news: Odd dragons, like nothin' we'd ever seen before were seen in the skies around Ulduar. The King set out with a party of warriors to aide Thorim and the Sons of Hodir against them. But they were ambushed by strange beasts the likes o' which we've never seen before. Creatures with no faces."

"Faceless ones, on the surface?" Midna demanded. "But the Old God should not yet be powerful enough to send his servants beyond the depths!"

The Regent blanched and shook his head. "The King and Thorim were captured and taken into Ulduar, by those creatures and the odd dragons at Loken's orders. We were getting ready to mount an expedition to retrieve them ourselves, but ye've arrived before we could begin."

"We may need your help," Rosalind said with a grimace. "We thought to go in and retrieve the relic before the taint spreads to far."

"And now it seems we are too late," Midna agreed.

"Ladies, what is it exactly you think is in Ulduar?" Brann demanded. "Yer letter mentioned a titan construct named Loken that was corrupted. What else did ye find there?"

Midna and Rosalind exchanged looks, then Midna nodded slowly. Rosalind sighed. "We found that all the watchers of the titans had been corrupted and imprisoned, save one: Thorim, the Watcher of Storms. We planned to attempt to free the other watchers from the grip of that which is imprisoned within Ulduar with your help. There were secrets within Ulduar we could not puzzle out ourselves, but we know of your reputation, Brann Bronzebeard. With your aide and that of Thorim, we were to enter Ulduar, free the Keepers, reseal the bindings on the sleeper, and retrieve the relic we seek."

"What relic is this?" Regent Icebellow asked.

"A hammer, forged by the titans, imbued with the power of the Light," Midna replied. "Khadgar seeks it in the war against the Scourge. We are both agents of his capable of wielding the hammer, and as such he sent us to retrieve it."

"You speak of the ancient hammer of the kings," Icebellow murmured, stroking his beard. "Val'anyr. But that was lost ages ago. To have it once again...yes, it would be a great weapon against the Scourge. But what right would outsiders have to wield it?"

"Need," Rosalind said quietly. "Desperate need. Khadgar has received a vision of the future, a vision where all of Azeroth, and worlds beyond, were overwhelmed by the Scourge and all life was annihilated. We require weapons to face our foes, weapons such as Val'anyr to stand any chance of defeating them."

"Other worlds, destroyed by the Scourge?" Ron asked, causing the older head to swivel to look at him. He flushed. "Well, I mean, I'm from another world. Earth. Would it be under threat from the Scourge too? My family...they're still on Earth."

"You're what?" Brann demanded. "Lad, you can't be serious. I've heard of beings from beyond, but this-"

"He speaks true," Mylra said firmly. "I found the lad alone and lost three years ago now. He reeked of spirits not of Azeroth. There are others too, friends of his that I've met."

"Worlds beyond our own," Brann muttered. He shook his head, turning to their guides. "What do you know of this?"

"I have...heard of Earth," Midna said slowly. "The draenei have visited many worlds. Earth was not one of them, but the Naaru sing of it."

"Earth is in danger," Rosalind said bluntly, drawing a gasp and glare from Midna. She ignored it, her glowing red eyes boring into Ron's. "Your family is in danger. If you flee from this, do not fight with all your might here on Azeroth, they will be doomed."

Ron sucked in a breath, an icy ball forming in the pit of his stomach. "Then...then I'll do whatever I must to help them. Getting this hammer, putting the sleeper back to rest, that's what we need to do right? And we were also told to find the hidden king."

"That must be King Stormheart," Icebellow declared. He slammed his fist down on the table. "I'll roust the troops. We'll leave at first light tomorrow with a contingent of Eagle riders. We'll break through Loken's defenses, and rescue the king and set the watchers to right, and retrieve this hammer of yours."

"I pray it will be that simple," Midna said with a sigh. "But it must be as you say."

"We could call for our allies. The others could make time to come," Rosalind suggested.

"We have no time to wait," Brann declared. "The secrets of the Titans await us. Now, let's get some supper and then to bed. Seems we've got a fight on our hands for the morning."

Ron quickly ate the bread and stew that was brought, then went to the aviary to bed down with Sharpbeak. The Frostborn offered he and Mylra a bed, but seemed pleased when they refused them to sleep with their mounts. The bond between rider and gryphon was a strong one, and it was a Wildhammer tradition that the day before battle a warrior and his bird should rest together to prepare their spirits for the trials ahead. Sharpbeak seemed to know what Ron bedding down with him meant, and he spent several minutes wetting his beak and talons on the walls of their nest before resting his head in Ron's lap and falling asleep.

Ron slept fitfully that night, dreaming of the Scourge attacking the Burrow. He tried to shout, to warn his parents, but he couldn't make a sound. He called fire and flame to attack the ghouls and skeletons that marched toward the door of the Burrow, but could only produce sparks. He tried to race forward, but his feet turned to lead, and he could only watch as his mother was set upon by-

Ron awoke with a start. He looked around, his hand on the haft of his axe.

"It is time," Faldorf informed Ron. "Get your gear together. Today, we ride for Ulduar and war."

Hastily saddling Sharpbeak, Ron patted the gryphon on the neck as it pranced nervously. All around them, eagle riders were preparing their own mounts, which were squawking and eyeing the four gryphons that had joined them with predatory intent.

"Easy there lad, we're all in this together," Ron soothed.

Rosalind and Midna joined them, mounting their own snowy white gryphons. Once all was ready, Regent Icebellow joined them, making his way to a massive white eagle and mounting it. Raising his axe high, he shouted, "Today we ride for Ulduar! We shall put an end to the cursed beasts, and rescue King Stormheart, and retrieve the sacred hammer Val'anyr!"

The other frostborn shouted their approval, and with a great beating of wings, the eagles dove off of the cliff, then rose up out of the pit in a storm of feathers and fury.

This time, Ron watched as the frostborn's own shaman speed their way, soothing storm spirits and urging wind spirits to send them along. Unlike Ron and Myrla who had needed to bully the elements of Northrend, these shaman were familiar with their local spirits, and were able to call upon their aid without making too much of a fuss. The spirits were still wild and nearly untamed, but their names were known to the Frostborn, and the spirits lent their aide.

Even so, it was an icy, draining flight over the peaks, with even the mighty eagles forced to detour around the tallest mountains. The air was thin and chilled the bone as well as the mind. Ron forced himself to pay attention and stay awake, clinging to Sharpbeak and whispering encouragement to his mount.

Several times scouts reported proto drakes and the strange dragons, though Ron saw little more than distant shapes. Brann was constantly looking around and down, shouting in delight as they flew over ancient relics of the titans. He obviously wanted to stop and inspect them, but Bronzebeard prince stayed in the long V formation, holding out for the true prize of an active titan facility.

After several hours of flight, the party beheld burning on a distant peak. They landed upon a rocky outcrop several miles distant, so that the leaders could make plans as the scouts inspected the blaze.

"Could it be the work of the earthen?" one of the captains wondered.

"Nay, they've hold up well out of this fight. It must be those strange dragons or beasts," another Frostborn guessed.

A short time later, the scouts returned.

"It's one o' those strange flying machines like the green ones have, Regent. It's crashed into the mountain. There's trolls and some o' the green ones, those this type seem a bit bigger."

"It's the Horde," Brann stated, looking surprised. "I didn't think they'd venture this far into the peaks so soon. They must be after the secrets of the titans as well."

Midna and Rosalind drew away as the Frostborn and Brann discussed their options. The two women had a frantic conversation in low tones. Mylra frowned at them as Ron craned his neck to try to overhear them.

"I do no like that demon lass," Mylra muttered. "And as for that draenei...what's she doing with one o' her cursed cousins? It does no make sense."

"Aye, they're an odd pair. Why would Khadgar send us with them if they were evil though?" Ron said.

Mylra shrugged and didn't answer, and a short time later Midna and Rosalind approached Brann and Icebellow.

"Our foes are mighty, and there is too much we do not know. We must confront the Horde," Midna said.

Rosalind nodded. "If they will join us, it can only improve our chances of success. If not, well, they must be dealt with now."

"A wise plan," Icebellow agreed. "We don't get along with the trolls or the green ones. But against the forces arrayed against us, perhaps we can find common cause."

They mounted up again and flew towards the burning peak. The fires had died down, and Ron saw the bodies of several large dragons, burned by fire cast down below where the zeppelin had crashed. There were shouts below them, and several wyverns rose to meet them. The Frostborn waved a flag of truce, and the wyverns did not attack as the eagles landed a short distance from the crash site.

A party of orc warriors approached, lead by a massive brown orc with a bloody bandage wrapped around one shoulder.

"Who dares approach the might of the Horde?" the orc called, raising his axe menacingly.

"Ye bloody well know who I am, Hellscream. And ain't ye the one trespassin' in the territory o' others? Might be more respectful to give yer own name first before demandin' ours," Brann said, stepping forward and glaring up at the orc.

Garrosh Hellscream sneered down at Brann, planting his axe in the snow and leaning upon it. "All territory will one day belong to the Horde, dwarf. But let it be known to all here that I am Garrosh Hellscream, Commander of the Warsong Offensive. We are here to claim the relics of Ulduar for the Horde. We had heard you thought to plunder this place for the Alliance, Bronzebeard. But know that the secrets of the titans will be ours!"

"Well, perhaps we can work out a share o' the loot, if ye don't mind helpin' us breech it's defenses," Brann said evenly.

"Brann," Midna hissed. "Not him."

Brann looked up, frowning at the draenei. "Ye were the one that said we needed help, lass."

"Not from that one," Midna snarled, glaring at Garrosh. "He is vile."

"What did you, say, little draenei?" Garrosh growled, lifting his axe out of the snow and assuming a battle stance.

"Wait, sister," Rosalind said, putting a hand on Garrosh. "Do not judge this one for the actions of another. He is innocent of the sins of the past, and his future is not yet determined."

Midna's eyes widened and she looked at her companion in astonishment. "You would defend him? You know what…" Midna seemed to force herself to stop. She turned back to Garrosh and bowed. "Forgive me. I...I remember a time when Hellscream doomed the world. I spoke in haste. I should not judge you for the sins of...of your father. I would be a fool to do so."

"Hmph." Garrosh's eyes narrowed, but after a moment he nodded and set his axe back down in the snow. "I too once judged Grommash Hellscream too harshly. He lived long enough to be a hero. Do not forget that, draenei." Garrosh looked back to Brann, rubbing his chin. "These foes are mighty, too much even for the forces I have here. Those strange dragons attacked us from nowhere, seeming to pop into existence right atop the Grom'arash. We've had to beat off one attack from faceless beasts already. Perhaps a temporary agreement is in order."

"We claim only one relic for ourselves," Icebellow stated. "An ancient relic of my people, the hammer of kings. Everything else we are willing to share. Though you may have to speak to the keepers about plundering their home."

"We shall see," Garrosh growled. "I have wyverns enough for a score of my men. They were to escort our siege gear to Ulduar, but that is lost now. We shall have to make other plans. Come. We have shelters set up. I offer you the hospitality of the Horde. Upon my honor, while we campaign together, we shed blood together as brothers."

Garrosh lifted his axe slightly, making a shallow slice on his palm. He offered the bleeding hand to Brann, who drew a knife and made a nick of his own.

"We fight as one, for the survival of Azeroth," Brann agreed.

"Hmph. Come. This wind cuts to the bone."

Despite the truce, Ron and the others were uneasy around the Horde warriors. They were mostly orcs with a few trolls and tauren, and a single Forsaken apothecary who was tending to the Horde wounded. Garrosh, Brann and Icebellow met in a tent that was set up for the purpose, but the others made camp a short distance away from the Horde. The frostborn had a guard rotation that kept an eye on the Horde, who were equally wary about the dwarves.

After an hour, Brann and Icebellow left the tent. "We've come up with a plan, of sorts," Brann informed them. "We'll rest here for the night. You can see Ulduar across the gorge there. It's a massive complex, filled with all sorts of ancient machinery. We'll fly over most of it, making for the primary structure at the far end. That's where King Stormheart and the watchers should be. Hellscream and his warriors will come with us, we will surely need their help before this is all over."

Several of the dwarves and Midna shifted uncomfortably at the Horde, but no one raised a voice in protest.

"For now, rest. We'll set off again at first light," Regent Icebellow stated.

The party set up shelters for themselves and their mounts, but kept a wary eye on the Horde all the while. Things were tense until one of the Horde, a troll female, came over.

"Do you be Ron of da Wildhammer?" the troll asked.

Ron nodded, stepping forward. "Aye, I'm Ronald of Clan Wildhammer."

The troll grinned widely, showing off her curved tusks. "Den ya know my fadda, Za'pi. I be Fi'ya o' da Reventusk. It be a pleasure to be meetin' ya."

Ron suddenly grinned, extending his hand and shaking Fi'ya's. "Yer father is a wise shaman, it was my pleasure to study under him. Oi, Mylra, this here's Za'pi's daughter, Fi'ya."

That seemed to break the ice, and before long Fi'ya had made introductions to several of the Horde warriors, and Ron and introduced the Frostborn. They built a fire between the two encampments, Ron and Fi'ya causing the few twigs they'd scavenged to turn into a mighty blaze, with Reth bobbing happily at the center. Rations were broken out, and the two sides shared a meal as they swapped outlandish tales. In the end they went to bed, with their sentry's looking out into the darkness, not back at the others encampment.

That night, Ron's dreams were troubled. Faceless shapes learned out of mist, and sand drained down from a broken hourglass upon Ron's head as dark wings beat over his head.

 **Ţ͘H̵E̷̡ S͡A̢͟N҉D͢Ş͞ ̨͟O̕͞F͠ ̕̕TI͏M͟͡E ̢̨WI͜͞ĻL̛ ̵B̵E ̨SC̵̸AT̷T͏̢͝E̷̵R̶̵ED̵̢. D̴̶̡EA҉̀T̶̡͠H̵ ̧SH̶͝Ą͡L̷͝L͢ Ŕ̵U͟L͡E͏͟.̕̕ ̴̕͘ALL̸ ̧͢W͠ILL ̛B̵E҉̨ ̧D́ÈVǪU͟͜͝R̷E̶͠D́͠. ̡͡**

 _Authors Note:_

 _Though next chapter we will be venturing into Ulduar, we are not going to be doing the Ulduar Raid. As much fun as I think fights like X-002 or Kolgaran are, we're not going to have 13+1 fights (and trash) just because that's what the raid had. There will be foes to face and fights to have, but only if they serve the plot in some way._


	19. Wakes the Dreamer III

Ḥ͇̫͕͎o͓̯w̜͉̦ ͇̗̺̜c̺̬̪̪a͖n̸͎̖̬̬͖̟͚ ̩͓͖̩̻͙̙y̮̯̣̟͔̯͟ou̖̮͖͜ ̶̟̜͔̫͔̦̬e͠s͍̼͜c͖̠̝̗̭͉̗a͔̘p̛͉̯̱ẹ̭̦̜̖͇͘ ̗d͏̹͙̠̲̰͇e͏a̹̞̼̜͍̗ͅt̮h̘͎̜̰̗͙͝ ͢i͈̟̭̜͞t̙͓̖s͕̯̜e̫lf̨̻̙͇͈̹͖̹?̠͚̮̩̣̱ͅ ͢A̪̠̰͎l̨̥̱̱ͅl̹̝̫̩̗͔̻ ̪̘͎͉m̧̝͍u̵͎̼͔̝̖̩͕s̰͙̜̞̯̭͚͞t̴̰̙͙ ̘̯͠d̼̝̖̞̫͔͡i̪̤͉̩̤e,̘̜̩̗̖͖̺ ̳͙̻̮̜̣a̧ll̷̜̥̩̩̠̖̥ ̡͙̞̼͍̼͙͕m̨͍͉̬us̢t̷͈͇̠̦̲̙͉ ͖̠̳̟̣͎̩͢fa̵̰̜̝̳̫l̴ḽ͚̯̤̞.̣͖ ̲͔̀A͙̣̦l͈̳̦̠͡l̵͖͇̮̼ ̹͚͈̰͖a̝͕̬̻re̷̠̻͓̺ ̵̠̭̖͈̼̣͇t͍̩̭̱ra͔̩p̨̼͚̬͎͍̣ͅp̴͍ed̳̼̝̭ ̞͕̙̝̥̝͈͞b͍̙͞y̟̫ ́t͈̙̠̙͟i̜̹̭̫̩me̖͕.̣

͖̳͖̩̦

̻͢B̘r͠e͉̭͍̤̦̱a̠k̩̭͖̘͞ ̙̙͔̹̲̖͚f̱̪͕r̼̲͞e̤̰͓͈̣e̹̙̳͖̹̻͈͘ o̩f̟͈̭ͅ ̰̪t̖̤̲̩͙͜i͇̳̤͙̤̫m̩̠͖̗̟̮ͅe̝̹,̢̖ ͇̼̥̼̲̤b̤̮̟͠r̢̖͈̥̗e̩̥̻͠a͔̱̗͔̠̳̬kͅ ͚͇͔fr͏̺̤̹̫e̳̖̤͙̯͢ȩ ̘̼̻̬͈͍of̦̖ ̹̰͟d̬̥͇̳̠̜e̬̘̪̰̹͞a͏͍ț̺h͡.͏̞͙̗̠͓̰ N̢͇͎̩͉o̯̫̭̗̜̥͔w̟ ̫i̜̮̬͈̼t͖ ̪̖̭i͚̥ș̦̳͚̫ ͏̰ͅy̰͉̤͍o̦̰͚̩̳̜͞u͍̘̠̹͉͟r̷ ̲̣d̗̰͇̣͇ͅŗ̪͎̠̭͙͓̮e̼̹̞͍̻ḁ̵̯͍̙̤͚m̝̦̝ ̩̺̞͍̞̞̱͞a̴̠͙͎̖s̟̻̳ ̦͔̫̞̣͈͕w̪̫̞͘e̴͖͖̼̞͍̭̟l̰l.͉̦̠̟̜

Ron awoke in the morning with his heart and head pounding, gasping for breath. Next to him, Sharpbeak moved restlessly, his talons twitching as he slept. Ron crawled out of the tent he'd pitched for the both of them, looking around in the pale light of the stars. The horizon had just begun to lighten, and the sky was clear with a few wisps of cloud. A moment later, the tent next to his shook and Mylra came out, her face pale and her breathing ragged.

"Bad dreams?" Ron asked.

She nodded, shaking her head. "I could hear it in me mind. We should have bloody warded the camp against...whatever that was."

Soon their companions awoke, and everyone muttered about dark dreams as they cooked breakfast over a small campfire.

"The Old One is stirring," Midna said grimly. "This is far sooner than we anticipated. The situation is dire."

"I could see it," Brann said, his eyes distant and haunted as he looked at nothing. "The thousand maws of death itself. Yogg Sa-"

Rosalind raised her hand and there was a sudden flash of light, causing everyone to flinch and Brann to let out a yelp. "Do not speak its name," the eredar said calmly. "It can hear you. We do not wish to draw attention."

That brought dark mutters from the dwarves, and they ate their breakfast in sullen silence. Dawn peaked over the mountains, and the dwarves mounted up, as did the Horde warriors on their wyverns. Unlike the eagles, which while not gryphons had the same stately bearing and fine plumage, Ron found the wyverns to be dirty, disgusting beasts. Even in the cold air they reeked of sour meat and sweat, and their ill tempers were clearly on display, snapping and yowling at their riders and the other wyverns.

"Wretched beasts," Ron muttered, patting Sharpbeak. "Not a beauty like you."

The gryphon preened, clearly as disdainful of the wyverns as his rider.

At last they all took off, climbing high into the sky as they flew over the edge of the Ulduar ruins. Scouts had reported that any approach was met with hostility by the mechanized caretakers, which they all sought to avoid. However, they were just passing above the first of the massive structures below them when a blaring horn sounded.

"Stay sharp!" Regent Frostbellow roared. "Here come those dragons!"

Instead danger coming from below, the air before them suddenly rippled as if a curtain had been drawn back. From the ripple emerged proto-drakes, but they were so unlike the beasts the vrykul had ridden that it almost defied belief. These were black, with glowing white eyes. When they roared, white flecks flew from their mouth then faded to nothingness, and in their wake they left distortions in the air. Their wings beat, but the rhythm was wrong somehow, the wings seeming to fade in and out of existence instead of flapping.

"They're 'fins!" Rosalind shouted. "Dragons corrupted by the old gods! Be wary, they can strike from any angle!"

"Cut through them!" Garrosh roared. "They will not keep us from Ulduar!"

With a cry Ron raised Reth's totem and his axe together, the blade igniting as the fire elemental sprang loose. Sharpbeak drove forward straight at a proto-drake, talons extended as he shrieked in rage. The drake bellowed in reply, raising up its hind limbs at rake at its foe. Channeling the rage of the fire spirit, Ron raised his axe and unleashed a stream of fire at the drake, enveloping it in raging flames. The creature bellowed and tried to swerve out of the way, but Sharpbeak dove in, slashing with talons and beak. Ron struck at the drakes wing, his axe blazing so hot it cut straight through bone and tendon. The drake fell away, only to dissolve into tiny bits of sand that blew away on the wind before it hit the ground.

Another drake flung itself at Ron, and this time he called upon the raging storm spirits of the peaks. The spirits were furious, the drakes' entrance having disrupted sky and wind. At Ron's call a howling wind that crackled with lightning arose, crashing into the drake and buffeting it aside as it was flayed with electricity. That drake also dissolved into sand, and Ron sped ahead to clear skies.

Once he was past the drakes, Ron turned in the saddle to look behind him. Both the Horde and the Frostborn had broken through, though on the ground below lay the crumpled remains of several wyverns and eagles. The drakes themselves had vanished, making only one pass at the intruders.

"Onward!" Brann Bronzebeard roared. "We cannot be stopped now!"

Ron turned back around and pressed himself into Sharpbeak's neck as they flew over a massive gorge. He looked about for more threats, but there was nothing but the wind. The stone halls of Ulduar were strangely silent now, the alarm having quieted. They flew a short distance further on before Rosalind and Midna directed the parties to a wide causeway before a large arch.

"This is the entrance to Ulduar, the Seat of the Watchers," Midna said, gesturing to the opening. It glowed flaintly with a pale eerie light emitted from various runes and spheres. "And the prison of one of the Old Gods: The Thousand Maws of Death. If you know the name, do not speak it. Though it has no eyes, it sees all."

"I fear nothing, least of all the name of this so called god," Garrosh sneered.

"Hey chief, I would be listenin' to dis one," Fi'ra said softly, putting a hand on Garrosh's shoulder. "Da spirits here stink of death. Dis one, it be a powerful dark creature. We best be proceedin' wit caution."

Garrosh turned to glare at his shaman, but then glanced into the Halls of Ulduar. A steady breath of wind, one that stank of corruption and decay, pulsed from the opening. Garrosh shuddered, and hefted his axe onto his shoulder. "Well, waiting will not make the fight easier."

"Aye," Brann agreed. "We press on. Rosalind, Midna, take the lead with me. We'll keep an eye out for any traps."

Leaving their mounts with a few handers, the group made their way inside: a dozen horde warriors with Garrosh, a score of Frostborn with Icebellow, and Ron and Mylra with Brann and their two guides.

The lights of the hallway made it bright, but though they did not flicker the shadows seemed to shift and lengthen as they made their way forward. Progress was slow, with Brann stopping to disarm several traps, and Midna and Rosalind guiding them around floor tiles they indicated were warded somehow. At last, they made their way out into the open, onto a wide causeway where large towers crackled with power. Beneath them strode giant mechanical constructs, some in the shape of giant humanoids, others spiders, and still others tanks and other mechanical vehicles.

"Bloody buggering hell," Ron swore. "How are we supposed to get past all of that."

"We need more warriors," Garrosh growled. "I could slay a giant or a tank, and you fools could account for another, but still, they would overwhelm us."

"Hmm. I wonder what's powering all those towers?" Brann mused. He shook his head. "They look like aerial defenses. We'd never fly over them."

"Indeed," Midna agreed. "But the Iron Army is out in force. We could not fight our way past all of them. We'll need to find another way around."

"If what I recall of my engineering training is true," Rosalind said slowly, "those towers would have to be connected to a central power grid. They don't appear to have individual power sources. Something is controlling them and powering them that they are all connected to."

Ron raised an eyebrow at her. "Don't tell me you were trained by gnomes too."

"No," Rosalind snapped. "My...mother...was convinced I should follow in her footsteps. I defied her in many ways, but I did pay attention to our lessons."

"Your mother was a bloody demon," Mylra said, glaring at the eredar. "I would no rely on her or you in such matters."

Rosalind seemed to deflate, her eyes downcast. Ron was shocked to see tears come to her eyes, but Brann stepped in. "Rosalind, that central power grid, could we shut it down?"

"Maybe," Rosalind said, sniffing and wiping her eyes with the back of her hand. "I don't recall much. Mostly how to make things explode really."

"Oh you and Hermione would just be best pals," Ron muttered.

To his shock, Midna growled at him, and Rosalind let out a sob. "I'm sorry! I'm trying my best!" the eredar wailed.

"Keep it down, keep it down," Brann hissed, peering at out the patrolling giants. They didn't seem to have noticed them, and the dwarf prince breathed a sigh of relief. "Look, maybe we could cause some sort of cascade failure. If all those towers exploded, that would wipe out that bloody machine host and let us right into the main complex. Do ya think ye could manage that lass?"

"I...I think so," Rosalind said. "Give me a few minutes." The eredar snuck forward, crawling on her belly. She studied the towers for several minutes, before nodding and sliding back. "Right, so there seem to be four primary power sources. Those main towers there, across that bridge, back that way and here. Each of them is supplying power to the entire grid."

"They look heavily guarded," Icebellow said, frowning as he stroked his beard. "We only have the forces to take one, perhaps two."

"I know a wee bit about titan engineering," Brann said slowly. "There should be a primary control panel in each of them. We'd need access codes to shut them down though."

"I say we smash them," Garrosh growled. "Destroy it!"

"That actually might work," Rosalind said. "We would have to do two towers at once. If both of the primary control panels were destroyed at the same time, it would cause a cascade failure. The system could buffer the surge from one at a time, but both being destroyed together would cause a massive failure. All of the secondary structures would overload, their defenses all activating at once in a burst. The other two control structures would likely be destroyed as well."

"It would be hard to take two towers at once," Icebellow said with a shake of his head. "They have enough forces to hold us off, we'd have no guarantee that we'd be able to take and hold both long enough to cause such a failure."

"Then we draw them out," Garrosh declared. He strode forward raising his axe. "The Horde will clear the way. Then you take the remaining guards at those towers, and destroy them. Come, Warsong! Battle awaits!"

"Lok'tar Ogar!" the horde warriors roared, and dashed after Garrosh. The defenders took note at the approach of the horde warriors, and immediately formed up into ranks, ready to repel their assault.

"Damned fool," Brann growled. He shook his head. "But that meathead has a point. If he draws away the defenders we'll surely have an easier time of it. Icebellow, you take that tower across the bridge. We'll handle the one on the right."

"We'll do it. Our stormcaller will call down lightning to the top of the tower when we have it. You do the same," Icebellow said as he and his warriors slunk away towards their goal.

Ron followed after Brann, watching as Garrosh roared with fury and lept into the air. A giant the size of a small mountain made of iron and crackling with power had strode forward. It lifted a hand towards Garrosh to swat him from the air, but Garrosh's axe sang with the sound of a thousand demons as he brought it around, shattering the giants arm. It fell back, stunned, as the other Horde warriors surged forward, hacking at its legs and firing off bolts of lightning. The giant crashed to earth, destroyed, and Garrosh roared in triumph. More constructs and giants came forward though, and the Horde fell back and reformed. Shaking his head, Ron pressed on.

With the defenders focused on the battle with Garrosh, Brann's group was nearly to the tower before their were spotted. Alarm gongs sounded, and the spider tanks opened fire as a squad of iron dwarves rushed them. Rosalind raised her hands, conjuring up barriers of light around the party that deflected the bullets long enough for Mylra and Ron to send crackling forks of lightning into the tanks, frying them. Brann raised his rifle and took out an iron dwarf, while Midna drew her crystalline axe, rushing forward and calling on the Light to shield her as she struck at her foes.

Ron leapt forward, his axe igniting with flames. He set a shock of fire into one dwarf, then sliced threw another with his axe, using his small wooden shield to deflect a blow. Mylra threw down a toten, calling upon an earth spirit that caused the ground to cling to the iron dwarves feet, slowing them. Brann picked off the last two with his gun, and they hurried forward into the tower.

Inside, there were only metallic gnomes, who seemed shocked to see the visitors. They attacked with their fists and various tools they had close to hand, but they were clearly not experienced at combat and were quickly dispatched. The group raced up to the second level of the tower, when Brann let out a shout.

"There! That's the primary control panel. One of you shamen send up the signal!"

Ron ran to a window and called down a bolt of lighting, then watched the other tower. Midna and Brann held off the few iron gnomes that came for them, and Ron took a moment to glance at Garrosh and the Horde warriors. Four more giants were down, and two tanks were smoking ruins, along with a score of iron dwarves. However, the Horde force was also smaller. Fi'ya was trying to use healing spells to keep her allies on their feet, but too many were being hit with gunfire and one orc had been stomped into a pulp by an iron giant.

Garrosh himself was bloodied, with one of his arms hanging useless at his side after he'd taken a shattering blow to it from an iron giant. He still held his axe with one hand, and was laughing madly as he cleaved through three iron dwarves at once. Still, even his strength could not hold out for long, and the Horde had retreated back to the entrance to make a stand in the narrow hall. Some of the Iron Army was making for the towers though, having realized that they were under threat from that direction.

Before they could arrive however, lightning struck the other tower. Ron called lightning again to be sure, then nodded to Rosalind. "They've taken the other tower."

"Then by the Light, BURN!" with a downward sweep of her arms, the eredar priest called down a blasing pillar of light which smote the main control panel, melting it. Ron and Mylra channeled lightning into the smoking heap, for for an instant nothing happened. Ron felt his heart leap into his stomach, then found himself knocked to his feet as the earth suddenly leapt like a raging river. There was an explosion of light and sound, and Ron blacked out.

Several minutes later, Ron came too with Rosalind cradling his head, her hand glowing as she peered down at him with pure panic in her eyes. "Oh by the Light, please, please, please don't be dead!"

"I'm fine," Ron groaned, trying to sit up. His head was still ringing however, and he collapsed back into the eredar's arms, for once not caring that she was a demon and grateful for her ministrations.

"He's alive!" Rosalind said, relief flooding her features. "The others?"

Midna stood, holding up Brann who had a bloody bandage wrapped around his head. "Fine. But if we're lucky, that damned orc is dead."

"He may yet have a role to play," Rosalind declared. She helped Ron up, then went to tend to Mylra who was calling upon the water spirits to heal her own injuries.

"Did it work?" Ron croaked.

Brann chuckled and jerked his chin at the window. "Look for yourself."

Stumbling over to the window, Ron looked at out a devastated landscape. The causeway had been ripped to shred, the pavement cracked and broken, the towers little more than stumps and rubble. Of the Iron Army, little remained. A few giants were identifiable, and the parts of some tanks, but the rest had been fried by the massive explosions of the towers. One giant head was now comically perched atop the burnt out chassis of a tank, its mouth open in shock as its dead eyes looked at nothing.

Ron breathed a sigh of relief. "Well, let's meet up with the others then."

"That was good fight!" Garrosh laughed as Fi'ra tended to his arm. He pushed her away with his good hand. "Go! Tend to the others. My life is in no danger." He grinned at Rosalind, his eyes glowing with sated bloodlust. "An impressive display. I don't think I've ever seen anything so glorious."

"We did what we had to," Rosalind said with a sigh. She turned to look at the destruction, shaking her head. "All this is pointless. Those were mere puppets. The true foe lies beyond."

"Then what are we waiting here for?" Garrosh demanded. With a grunt, he forced himself up using the handle of his axe as a crutch. "Onward!"

"Wait," Ron said. He walked forward, taking Garrosh's broken arm in his. It was massive, nearly as big around as Ron's torso. Garrosh twitched, but didn't protest, despite the fact that it was broken so badly Ron could see the bone sticking out of an oozing wound. Closing his eyes, Ron called upon the water spirits, knitting the bone back together and healing the flesh. "There." Ron dropped the arm and nodded to Garrosh. "You fought well. Be a shame if you couldn't swing that bloody great axe of yours properly."

Garrosh grinned at Ron and saluted him, thumping his chest with his newly mended arm. "My thanks, human. Perhaps your kind are not as useless as I thought. I saw you cleave that iron dwarf in two. Not bad, for a human."

"If you're done bantering, we must press on," Midna said, her expression grim. "As Rosalind said: that was just the least of the horrors we face today."

The party pressed on, though they had to leave behind four horde warriors and half a dozen of the Frostborn. Ten more were dead, three horde and seven dwarves. The fighting at the other tower had been much fiercer, with one Iron Giant having stayed behind that Icebellow himself had slain with a great blow from his hammer.

They made their way along the shattered causeway, picking their way through the rubble. The gates of Ulduar stood open, having been shattered by the force of the blast. Beyond them the path was less damaged, the high walls having shielded it from most of the damage. The party stepped forward, but as they walked the last few yards a dark shadow fell over them. Ron looked up, just as cries of "DRAGON!" erupted from every lip.

Ron ducked down as a massive adult dragon landed before the gates, drawing itself up. This was no bruteish proto drake, instead having the sleek lines of one of the five flights. It was also a hundred feet from snout to tail and stood 35 feet tall at its shoulders. Like the proto drakes they had faced earlier though, this one was black with white eyes and markings upon it.

"Fools! You have come here in defiance of fate, foolishly seeking to bend destiny to your will! But it is here, now, in this time, that you shall fall, and your worlds be forever doomed!" the dragon roared, crouching down and spreading its wings.

"Oh Light," Midna whispered, raising her axe high. "A fully grown Infinite. The corruption is spreading!"

"Ha, I have slain worse than you, dragon," Garrosh laughed. "I have long wished to mount one of your kinds head above the gates of Orgrimmar!"

"Ah, Hellscream." The dragon chuckled darkly, raising up a talon. A stream of bleached white sand fell from its claws, forming into the shape of Garrosh, raising his axe. "Such an interesting mortal. So many points of deviance for you. So many little ways that you could be the doom of this world. Let us pull one from a timeline not so distant from now. You were all fools to come here."

The sand image grew, showing Garrosh raising his axe over a dead beast of massive size that seemed to be made of nothing but mouths and tentacles. "Behold," the sand image roared. "I have slain death itself! With this power, I shall destroy the Scourge and the Alliance! All shall kneel before the Horde!"

The sand image plunged a hand into the dead thing before it, drawing out a pulsing brain.

"What, no, that is madness!" Brann cried, jerking away from the image.

The real Garrosh's eyes widened. "I had thought perhaps...but, I doubted, for it could lead to slavery again. But if my father overcame such…"

The sand image devoured the brain, then bent double, bellowing in pain. It grew in size as tentacles sprouted from its shoulders and its arms turned into axe blades. Suddenly the thing burst from the sand into life, a towering monstrosity that had once resembled Garrosh, but was now a black and white parody of tentacles and fangs. The eyes were gone, replaced with gaping mouths, and slime dribbled from them both as the original mouth had become a slime encrusted array of tusks.

"No!" Garrosh howled, raising his axe. "No, I am not this weak!"

"To be mortal is to be weak," the dragon hissed. "Behold your folly, and die. You have doomed yourself."

With that, the dragon dissolved into sand and was blown away by the wind.

With twin bellows of fury, both Garrosh's charged one another, their axes singing with the voices of a host of demons. The twisted image struck out blindly, both arms swinging in wide arcs, the blades where the hands had once been slicing the air. The other Garrosh dodged and attempted to slash with an overhand blow, but was knocked back like a toy when his blow was deflected.

"This is too much," Midna groaned, dropping her axe to the ground. "I did not think we would face such so soon."

"Don't give up now, lass," Brann shouted, raising his gun and firing. "We're not beaten yet."

"No," Midna said grimly, reaching up onto her back. The canvas covering the massive object there fell away, revealing a glowing sword. "The fight has just begun."

Ron and Mylra raised their hands to the heavens, and together called down a sheet of lighting that struck the monstrosity repeatedly, hammering it into the ground.

"Garrosh, now, together!" Midna shouted, raising her sword on high. The runes upon the glade seemed to ignite with a yellow flame, and glowing wings sprang from the draenei's back.

"I will never be a slave!" Garrosh shrieked, and together he and Midna lept forward, slamming their weapons into the parody of the orcish leader.

The beast bellowed in rage, then suddenly stood, throwing back Midna and Garrosh with a sweep of its tentacles and hurling balls of darkness at Ron and Mylra. Both shaman broke their concentration to leap away, and the ground where the orbs landed festered and broke into grains of sand.

"Charge!" Icebellow roared, and with a cry both the Frostborn and Horde warriors ran forward, whirling hammers and axes as the slashed at the creature.

"STOP!"

The air itself suddenly seemed to turn to gel, and Ron found he could move nothing but his eyes. Sound became muted, and he could hardly seem to breath as his heart slowed dramatically.

"Oh dear oh dear oh dear, this isn't what should be happening at all!"

Through the melee, a gnome walked, tisking and shaking her head. She was dressed in white robes with a bronze cuirass, and carried a dagger and vial of sand. "My my, what are you mortals up to?"

The gnome walked straight up to the frozen Garrosh-horror, examining it. "Yes, yes, this is definitely the source of corruption. Along with..hmm, multiple anomalies, but the strongest is…"

The gnome pointed, her finger wavering between Midna and Garrosh, who were crouched together, trying to rise from their fall as Rosalind healed them. "Ah, you! Looks like you're in two places at once!"

The gnome waddled over to Garrosh, sprinkling a bit of sand over him. Garrosh gasped and suddenly burst into motion. He growled at the gnome, trying to raise his axe, but it seemed glued to the ground where it lay. "What are you doing here? This is a battlefield! A tiny thing like you can be no help at all!"

"Gar..rosh..not….gnome…" Midna groaned, her words oddly deep and slow.

"Hmm, hmm, you are an interesting one aren't you?" the gnome commented. She smiled up at Garrosh. "Little am I? Well, looks can be deceiving, you know."

"What are you? What's happening?" Garrosh demanded.

"I'm Chromie. Well, properly Chronormu. Pleased to meet you! I'm the caretaker of this particular location and temporal setting. I've been getting all sorts of odd readings, which is why-"

Chromie suddenly blinked, then frowned at Midna. "Are we going to meet later on? I can't shake the feeling that my time stream is all mixed up with yours."

"Met...years...ago…" Midna said.

"Oh! Terribly sorry, you can all get up now," Chromie said. She flung a bit of sand into the air, and both the Alliance and Horde warriors suddenly sprang back into motion, then stumbled to a halt, looking around in confusion. Ron gasped for breath, only to find he wasn't winded at all, despite what it had felt like.

"You met us years ago, Chromie. Don't you recognize us?" Midna asked, confused. "Ever since we first went to...to Tanaris. Don't you remember?"

"Well, you might remember, but it sounds like you met a later version of me," Chromie mused. She waved her hand dismissively. "I'm sure I'll remember it at some point. For now, I need to know what made that." She pointed at the Garrosh thing, which was still frozen. "That's obviously him, but from a future. Probably not even the future! Someone's been very naughty."

"You...you sent us here," Rosalind said, her tone confused. She groaned, rubbing her forehead. "Ugh. Time travel. I'll never understand it. Look, you sent us to Khadgar, to hunt down the Infinite Dragonflight. This wasn't supposed to be a part of that originally but I guess we got mixed up in this somehow."

Chromie tilted her head to one side, frowning. She suddenly whirled, looked at Ron for a long moment, then spun back to face Midna and Rosalind, while the very confused Garrosh continued to try to pry up his axe, which was still frozen in time.

"There are too many anomalies here. I'm going to have to quarantine this entire party until I can sort this mess out. I've never heard of this Infinite Dragonflight, and I think the Aspect needs to. So before we-"

"WAAAAAIIIIITTT!"

Out of nowhere, a new gnome popped out, this one identical to the first. "Oh, hourglasses. This is too confusing," the new Chromie groaned. "I'll have to fix that. Here." With a wave of her hands, the gnome changed her hair from twin cinnamon rolls to a single swirling bun on top of her head. "There, that's better."

"Oh, another me?" Chromie said, accepting this occurrence far more easily than the others did. Ron for his part sat down hard, totally lost at the situation.

"Look, I'm sorry, me, but you can't quarantine these mortals! They're on a very important mission. I would have told me about it but it hasn't happened for you yet so I'm here to talk now. Please, come to my when and I'll let you know. This is very secret, from the Aspect himself! I'll take you to his now so we can work this out," the new Chromie said.

"Hmm, well, I've always said if you can't trust yourself, who can you trust?" the first Chromie said with a shrug. "Alrighty then. Oh! But we'd better take care of that first. It shouldn't exist, and both of them in the same place could lead to disaster! But we'd better hurry because we shouldn't be in the same when either."

"Good idea, I'll handle it," the new Chromie declared. Suddenly, instead of a gnome, a giant bronze dragon stood in the same place. It breathed a stream of sand over the Garrosh-horror, which came to life. It roared defiance, just in time for the dragon to neatly bite it in half. The thing dissolved to sand.

"Bleh! Infinite spawn. Tastes like temporal anomalies," the dragon rumbled. It spat out a stream of sand. "Well, we should be going. Midna, Rosalind, do what you set out to do. Brann, say hello to your brother for me, and Ron, be nice to Hermione, it wasn't her fault."

"I...what?" Ron croaked, totally confused.

"Ta-ta!" Gnome-Chromie said, waving her fingers. Then she frowned at the dragon version. "Wait, did you just-"

The two bronzes dissolved into sand, and the world spun back to motion fully.

For a moment, no one moved, staring at the pile of sand that had once been the Garrosh monstrosity.

Then Garrosh finally picked up his axe, striding over to the pile of sand and staring down at it in bewilderment. "What did I do?" he asked, his tone stunned. "I am truly so hungry for power? Am I doomed to repeat the mistakes of my father?" He looked at the axe in his hands, then grimaced. He tossed it to one of the orcs who followed him.

The orc caught it out of reflex, looked at the axe in his hands in shock, then held it up to Garrosh. "Commander, I cannot take this! This is Gorehowl, legendary of axe of your father!"

"Then bear it with honor," Garrosh growled. He walked over to the crystalline axe that Midna had dropped and hefted it, testing the weight and balance. He slashed the air a few times, then turned to Midna. "Will you be needing this?"

Midna gapped at Garrosh, then slowly closed her mouth. She shook her head, glancing at the sword in her hands.

"Good. I need a weapon." With that, Garrosh turned back to the entrance to Ulduar, walking up the steps. He reached the top, then turned around and glared at the others. "Well, what are you waiting for? I thought we came here to kill a god!"

Alone, Garrosh entered into the depths of the Titan facility, leaving the past and future behind him.

 _Authors Note:_

 _Achievement Unlocked:_

 _Something's not quite right…_

 _-Disrupt the cannon Warcraft Timeline completely and totally._

 _25 points_


	20. Wakes the Dreamer IV

W͠҉̫͟a͖̠̦̘̬͉̟k̛͉̣̙̞̠̼͚̼e͏҉̖̭̟̗̠̬͙͝s̸̮̘͓̰ ̸̥̦͖̪̠̗̲͘ͅt̛̪̮̗̲̙̩̭h͏̯͖͔͉͎͓̮̜͔e͠͏̖ ̛̦̻͖̖̖̟́d̨̞̩̲̤̲̳̬̫r̴͙̱e̮̰͟͞a̖̭̤̱͘͢m̧̰̦̙̲̀e̵҉̹̪̗̬ͅr̡̧͓̪̳͉̟͙̥,͚̪͖̪̫ ͖̗̙͓̻̯̞ę̨̹̺̻͖͙̝n̵̴̻̰͚͕͍̞̳̙͠d͏̨͇̺̭̲͈̙̭̤s̛͓̞̤̜̖̤͈͜ ̨̬̭͢ț͓͙̳͚͠ͅh͚̗̼̻̼̘̗e͠҉̠̙̳ ̨̳̣̮͟͠w̳̪͙̕͝o̰̥̝̠̣̕r̢̟͓̳̩l̥̺͖͓̬ͅd̺̤.̵̲̰̜̀͜ ̥̟͉̫̞̼̖A̧̡͘ͅͅ ̥̝̣̫͜͢w̶̮̹à̪̖͎̻̺̟̫̀ͅk̨͈̟̝̜͕̮̩ḭ̤̀n̶̝̩̘g̪̬̟͙͍̱͚͠ ̵͎̖͚̩̱͟ͅn̷͏̜̻̼͖̻i̶͎͈̭͕g̸̱͢h҉̫̝̮̞̦͟͝t̛̪͍̜͇̩̙̮m̙͘͡͡a̶̵͉̰r̢̳̮͕̤͓̦è̡͔ ̗̺͕͖͇̀w͔͎̹i̹͈͔̞ͅt̶̡͇̤̙͡h̨̼̹͎̦̱̰̯͖o̻̘̘̼̰͍͘͡u̸͙̜͎̦̗̜͔͖t̗͖̩ ҉͖͉͈̺̤̱̟ͅe҉̠̦̕n̸̵̰̥̮̠͍ͅḏ͇͇̼̦̟̱́͢.̨̩͙̱̳̞̯̬ͅ ̡̰̖̲̘̦̖̩͞W̠͎̬̣̼͚̕o̴̡̖̰̻̦͖͟ṟ̛̲̪̪́ļ̞̺̭̪̦̼͝͠d̶̲̪̥͍͇̩͢ ҉̗̦w҉ͅi҉̧̻͈͢ṯ̨̧̖͓̰͚͟h͚̦̥̲̱̹͜o̙̩̲̮̻̖ų̸̳̥͓͇̻̕t̶̖̖̤͖͓̩̭̱̲ ̯͚ṱ͚͞i̤̥̗m̨̠̯̘͡ę̳̩̲͎̱̘ͅ,̷͉̱̭̹͡ͅ ̨͓̺͜w͏̗̺̞ǫ̗͙̝̦̤͉̖̕r̛͖̣͚͖ͅl̞͕͇̜͢d̨̛̟̦̟ͅ ̶͕̮͕͓̣̀͞ͅẃ͜҉̥̥̝͙i̕҉̣̝̖͚̯t̴̖̮̮̹͉̮̦h̷̖͈̠̤͉̱͟ọ͈̹̳̰̘̜̳́ṵ̶̴̟̭̻̰͖̗̝t͚͕̼ ͝͝҉̯̹̥̣l̶̛̬͎ḭ̡̗̬͎͈͟f̧̢̥̬̤̘e͏̣̞̟͚͔.̡̘̲̟ͅ

̤͚̣͎͉̪̱

̯̲͔͎̠͉̭͠Ẁ̶̗͉̥ơ̧̟̰͍̤̩̕ͅr̟̫̫̭̣̣̦̖̕ḽ̢̘̦̳̞ḍ̻͎͚͈̩̮͚̱͘ ̷̲͓̭o̵͙̲̪̱̘̯̕f͔͟͡ ̛̪̬̞͢ṯ̵͎́h̴̼͇̣͖̪e͉̗͚͡ ̷͙d̨̛̙̪̖̰͕̲̀e̩̭̩̩ͅa̶̟̬̗͖͓̩̥̲d͏̴̟̻̪̹̱͠ ̻̦͎̙͖̯̻g̢͔͉͍͔͠o͕̻̝̭͈d̳̳͈̪̱'̘̝̥̼̗̗̯͞s̩̫̮̖̦̟̝̳ ̬̜̙͢ͅd͚̲̰̲̬r҉̷̛͙̣͈͍ę̩͙̘̗̙̺͙a̴͓̹̠m̢͓͖̰͚̟̟͇͇.̠͕̟

Holding his breath against the stench of death and corruption, Ron followed Garrosh up the stairs. The flicking shadows of the halls seemed to cast everything in a sinister light, and the air was thick and heavy. Reluctantly Ron took a breath, forcing himself not to gag on the stink. As he continued to breath, he found his disgust lessening, becoming used to the smell. He couldn't tell if that was a blessing, or a curse.

Garrosh was waiting for them at the base of a staircase, staring up at a glowing image of a starry dragon. He glanced at Ron as he approached.

"Took you long enough. You, Bronzebeard. Where do we go from here? My axe thirsts."

"I haven't a clue to be honest," Brann said, his gaze wandering around the room. "What about you two lasses?"

Rosalind and Midna were talking quietly over by one of the staircases, but broke off when Brann addressed them. "We haven't been this deep inside before," Midna admitted. "Thorim took us only to the entrance when we were rebuffed by Loken. We barely made it out alive that time. Perhaps we can find another control panel somewhere that can tell us more of this place."

"Pheh. Useless," Garrosh growled. The orc commander glanced around, then pointed to a side chamber. "We'll start that way."

Reluctantly, Ron followed after Garrosh. The groups footsteps echoed loudly in the halls, the only other sound the persistent hum of distant engines and spells.

"This spirits of this place fell wrong," Ron whispered to Mylra. "Like they're dead, or asleep."

She nodded, her expression grim. "Aye lad. Reminds me too much o' Shadowmoon Valley. There everything was touched by the fel. This is similar, but different, somehow. I do no like it."

After making their way along corridor, Brann held up a hand, and the party came to a sudden stop. Brann leaned forward, and Ron could hear voices ahead of them.

"That can't be," Brann muttered. "I could almost swear that...no." The explorer broke into a sudden run, sprinting around the last bend. Ron ran with the others to catch up, only to crash into Brann's back as they rounded the last corner.

As Ron scrambled back up to his feet, a booming voice bellowed, "The cursed ones show themselves! It is as Watcher Loken warned! They shall inflict all of us with the curse of flesh, as this one is!"

"Oh screw you and the eagle you rode in on," a smaller voice replied in a weary beaten tone. "You're the ones that are bloody cursed."

Ron gapped at what he saw before him. An iron giant, bigger than any he had seen so far, dominated the large chamber they stood within. Beside him stood an iron vyrkul and an iron dwarf. The three were standing over a table to which a dwarf was strapped, channeling some sort of weird power at it. Half of the dwarf's face had gone to metal, the other half still flesh, but the metal seemed to be growing, bit by bit.

"Muradin!" Brann cried, struggling to his feet. "Muradin is that you?"

"King Stormheart!" Icebellow cried. "Titans, what have they done to you?"

"Aye, that would be me," the dwarven prisoner said tiredly. "Ye're both right. Long story. But if it isn't too much trouble, would ye mind stopping these bloody bastards? They're tryin' to turn me to iron and force me to serve Loken and his master."

"We shall cure you all of the curse of flesh!" the iron vrykul declared, stopping the spell he had been casting to lay several glowing runes upon the floor.

"You meddling mortals will not be allowed to interfere!" the iron dwarf declared, rising up into the air as lightning crackled around him. "If you will not submit, you will be slain!"

The giant turned towards them, stepping forward to guard his allies. "The Watcher's plan will be perfected! This world will once more be iron, perfect and true!"

"You talk to much," Garrosh sneered. "Draenei! With me! We shall slay the giant. Fengar! With me as well! Wield Gorehowl with honor!"

"Yes commander!" the orc warrior who bore Hellscream's old axe shouted.

"Wait," Midna said. She laid a hand on both the orcs, and Light flowed from her. "You are now blessed of the Light: the strength of the Naaru flows through you."

"Feh. I serve no Naaru. But I will take their strength, and make it serve me! The orcs are slaves no longer!" Garrosh roared. "We have no curse upon us! Nothing will remake us but our own choices! LOK'TAR OGAR!"

"FOR THE HORDE!" the Warsong shouted, and they raced forward along with Midna.

The Frostborn, not to be outdone, shouted and raced after the others. "STORMHEART!"

"Quickly," Fi'ra said, raising up a totem of wind. "We must aide them!"

Ron called upon Reth, causing his allies weapons to burst into flames. Mylra raised a storm totem, and lightning coursed around the party as Fi'ra sped their steps with the wind itself. Rosalinda channeled a spell that raised protective barriers, and Brann shouted a wordless cry of rage and opened fire with his gun.

The iron giant raised his foot to crush the oncoming warriors, but Garrosh and Midna lept into the air together, propelled by the winds Fi'ra had called. The giant tried to move his arm to swat them from the skies, but Ron smote him with a burst of flames, and the giant's guard dropped. Garrosh and Midna struck home together, causing the giant to real backwards.

Before he could be overwhelmed though, the iron dwarf shot forward, floating above the ground on tendrils of lightning. With a gesture he caught both Midna and Garrosh with a bolt, knocking them to the floor.

"You shall feel the might of the Makers!" the iron dwarf snarled, raising his arms to hurl more lightning down. To his surprise, instead of forming in his hands, a bolt struck him, causing him to whirl towards the three shaman.

"I am Mylra Stormborn! I hear the spirits, and they heed my cry!" Eye's glowing with power, Mylra slashed her hand down, Ron and Fi'ra mimicking her gesture. The lightning around the vrykul crackled, then surged into him. He bellowed in pain, dropping to the ground.

Icebellow and Fengar charged at the dwarf, Gorehowl singing of death and destruction. Before their blows could land, a rune sprang up under their foe, and his wounds knitted.

"You will not slay my brothers so easily," the iron vrykul growled, laying a glowing rune upon the floor. "Steelbreaker! Brundir! Your wounds are healed! Do not let these mortals overcome us!"

"Are ye all daft?" Muradin groaned from the table. "You bloody well kill the healer first! Kill the bloody iron mender!"

"Fool, they will never get past me!" Steelbreaker the giant vowed, stomping his foot and forcing Garrosh and Midna back.

"They don't have to," Brann whispered, aiming carefully. His rifle barked, and the iron vrykul let out a cry of pain, his runes fading as he clutched at his face.

"My eye! I cannot see! My eye!"

"Now!" Garrosh roared. "Finish it! Draenei, here!" Garrosh dropped his axe, forming a stirrup with his hands.

Midna sprang forward, and Garrosh flung her into the air, on top of Steelbreaker, who was still busy stomping at the Frostborn, who were attempting to hack at his legs. With a cry, Midna grabbed on to Steelbreaker's back with one hand, then began hacking at him with her glowing sword. The giant bellowed in rage, falling back as his hands scrabbled at Midna, trying to dislodge her. She clung on, her booted feet finding purchase enough for her to stab at Steelbreaker.

The giant continued to fall back to the wall of the chamber, where he slammed his back into the wall in an attempt to crush Midna. At the last moment, she leapt away, falling towards the floor below. Ron called upon the winds, which buffeted Midna and slowed her decent. Ron clutched at Reth's totem, concentrating on the fire within him. He shouted and flung his arm forward, and a great ball of fire hurtled at Steelbreaker, slamming into the giants chest.

The giant groaned, dropping to one knee, and Midna spun on her heel, bringing around her sword in a massive arch. It slammed into the giant's chin, opening a massive gash. Steelbreaker sighed and fell, and did not move again.

While Steelbreaker had fallen, the Horde warriors had been contending with Brundir the iron dwarf. A barrier of lightning surrounded him, warding off his foes as Brundir threw bolts of lightning. So far Rosalind had been able to deflect most of them, and heal what wounds were taken, but she was weakening, panting for breath and leaning on her staff.

"For the Aerie!" Mylra shouted, and jumped forward, her hammer crackling with energy as a shroud of lightning enveloped her.

Mylra slammed into Brundir like a thunderhead crashing into a tempest. Thunder roared and lightning flashed as the two dwarves fought, one of flesh, the other of iron.

"You are weak! Corrupted! You are no match for the strength of the Iron Council!" Brundir hissed as he extended both hands towards Mylra

"Maybe alone, but I am not alone!" Mylra replied, raising her shield.

"We walk wit da spirits!" Fi'ra shouted, causing Brundir to look towards her. His eyes widened just as she unleashed a wave of wind and frost, which buffeted the iron dwarf and caused him to lose focus.

Brundir cried out in pain as he was engulfed in three storms. Smoke rose from his eyes and mouth, and he collapsed to the floor, his body scorched and twitching.

The iron vrykul was still clutching his face when Brann ran forward and slammed his pickaxe into the wounded iron mender, causing him to fall onto his back. Brann lept onto the vrykul's chest and pressed the muzzle of his gun under his chin.

"What have you done to my big brother," Brann growled.

"You...fool…" the vrykul groaned. "We were...trying to save him...trying to save you all...death...waits...for you…"

"Well, death has bloody well found you," Brann snarled, and pulled the trigger. He stood, then dropped his weapons and ran to Muradin.

"Brother, speak to me," Brann said, tears coming to his eyes as he cradled his wounded kin.

Ron and Rosalind ran forward and began to ply healing spells on Muradin, and the dwarf coughed and tried to smile at Brann, though he mostly winced.

"Well, yer a sight for sore eyes, Brann," Muradin groaned. "I thought I'd never see you again. By my beard, I forget you bloody well existed. How long...how long have I been here?"

"Ye've been gone for ages, Muradin. I though Arthas killed you," Brann said, hastily untying the bindings that held his brother and helping him off the table. "By the Titans...Muradin, what did they do to you?"

"Oh, aye, Arthas tried to kill me. Fool boy never checked to see if he succeeded though," Muradin said, wincing as he sat up. He waved off Ron and Rosalind. "I'm fine now, just...weak."

"The metal, it's like it's a part of you," Ron said, shaking his head. "I could no cure it. You're healed as best I can do. Rosalind, can the Light do anything for him?"

The eredar pursed her lips and shook her head. "No. He has been remade. It would be as useless to attempt to heal him of that metal as it would be to heal me of the fel. It is woven into his being, an inseparable part of him."

Ron's eyebrows rose, and he studied Rosalind more carefully. That made the demoness glare at him. "It is true. I have tried. Perhaps if I could speak with one of the Naaru, I could be remade, but I have not the time now. For now, it is enough to know that he will live. If anything, the metal may strengthen him."

Ron nodded slowly. "Well, I guess I should no more judge you for that than anyone should that I'm a wee bit tall for a dwarf."

Muradin wheezed with laughter, and Rosalind and Ron both flushed, falling silent.

"Brann, you always did find the oddest things. A bloody demon wielding the light and a human acting like he's a bloody shaman of the clans? By my beard I haven't seen anything so funny in ages."

"You, dwarf, what is this curse of flesh," Garrosh growled striding over. "Is this the work of the god I have come to kill?"

Muradin frowned. "Big bastard ain't ya? Why the hell are ye brown? Someone dip ye in the same shit that comes out of yer mouth?"

Ron snorted with laughter and turned away, trying to hide his amusement. Brann developed a sudden cough, and Ron even heard Fi'ra snigger.

Rosalind, however, was not amused. "He is a true orc. One that has seen through the lies of demons and never took the blood of Mannoroth. He is untouched by the fel and free of corruption. Perhaps the only one of us here that can claim such a thing by blood."

"Oh call down lass we was just tradin' insults," Muradin said with a sigh. "I've fought the orcs through two wars, but if this one wants to rescue me I won't object."

"Heh. You must rescue yourself," Garrosh declared. He glanced around the chamber. "This is a dead end. Bronzebeard!"

"Yes?" Brann and Muradin said at the same time.

Garrosh growled in frustration and pointed at Brann. "Brann. This is not what I came here for. I was promised powerful relics and the opportunity to slay a mighty foe. So far we have found nothing of value and have fought only puppets and pale reflections. Show me where this god is, or I shall tire of your company and kill him myself!"

"Oh I know where the Old God is," Muradin said quietly, leaning on Brann for support. "They took me to the seat of the watchers. There was a great bloody seal there. Loken shattered it, with help from the others. He's mind controlling Thorim and the other watchers somehow. Tried to get me, too. Didn't work, since I'm too bloody stubborn. They tortured me for a good long while, holding me over that pit as I lived out every bad dream I've ever had."

Jogged me memory though, made me remember who I was. He gave it up for a bad job and gave me over to these lads here. I can still hear it though, whispering. Calls itself the god of death. The Thousand Maws. Yogg Saron."

Suddenly the light in the chamber seemed to dim for a moment, and whispers, half heard, half incomprehensible, echoed around the chamber. Ron flinched, looking around widely until the whispers died away a moment later.

"Do not speak that name," Rosalind hissed. "It's power is great here. The Light is with us, but even the Light will abandon fools who throw themselves off a cliff."

"Aye, well, I don't know if there is any power great enough to help us now, lass," Muradin said, standing on his own on shaky legs. "The Old One is breaking free. And when it's loose, it's going to make Arthas look like a saint in comparison."

Brann winced. "Er, Arthas is the Lich King now. He's trying to blanket all of Azeroth in death and raise everyone as his eternal slaves."

Muradin considered this. "Ok, maybe just make Arthas look like a demented gnome. Because the Old Gods have been doing this for a very, very long time. It showed be visions of other worlds, other places, other times they have corrupted. There was nothing left but madness and pain. Death would be sweet in comparison."

"Then it is a good thing I am here to kill it," Garrosh growled. He jerked his head at Muradin. "Are you coming, dwarf, or are you too weak to fight now?"

A cold light entered into Muradin's eyes, one glowing with metallic fury, the other blazing with life. "You put a hammer and axe into me hands and I'll show you what it means to bring the fury of the mountain down upon your head, orc."

Icebellow approached, holding out an axe and hammer made of frost forged steel. "My king, we came as soon as we could. Forgive us for failing you."

Muradin picked up the weapons, hefting them in his hands. He grinned, half his face stretching in a smile as the metal half showed its teeth in a disturbing blend. "It's alright, Velog. Fight by my side now, and we'll carve a path straight into legend."

"I'm sure some will remember those who aided me in my greatest triumph," Garrosh said, casually buffing his nails on his tabard. "But it is not likely."

"Ha! We'll just see about that," Muradin laughed, and stalked off towards the chamber exit.

Brann hurried after his brother, the others trailing behind them. "Muradin, are ye sure? Ye've been through hell and back. It would be no dishonor to sit this one out. Magni would bloody kill me if I lost ye again."

"Thing of it is little brother," Muradin said, shaking his head. "There has be be a world left for that to happen. And if we don't act now, I don't think there will be one."

That caused the party to fall silent, exchanging uneasy glances. Ron looked up at Garrosh, but the orc's jaw was set, and he strode forward to walk beside the Bronzebeard brothers, still carrying the crystalline axe on his shoulder.

"We're all bloody crazy," Ron muttered. "Walking into madness and death."

"Death lies behind us just as much as before us," Rosalind said, causing Ron to jump. He hadn't realized she had been walking right behind him. "When all around you is hopeless, take heart in the Light, and continue on."

Ron turned his head and frowned at the eredar, but then shrugged. "Guess there are worse things I could do."

This time, Muradin lead them up the staircase past the glowing dragon. Ron flinched as he turned directly into the stench of death, but he did not falter, following behind Brann and gripping Reth's totem and drawing courage from the spirits.

At the top of the staircase everyone halted, gazing out into a vast chamber. Great windows of stained glass formed the domed ceiling, depicting images of titan constructs doing great deeds. At the center of the ceiling was an image of six constructs with raised hands, glowing light streaming from them. Within the light was a ball of darkness, made of teeth and tentacles and wrapped in chains. But the image was marred, cracks running through it, and dark soot smearing it.

On the floor of the chamber sat a great pit. At one point a seal had kept the pit closed, but now glass and stone floated in the air of the chamber, the seal broken and destroyed. From the pit oozed tendrils of darkness, waving in the air and growing along the floors and walls.

All around the edge of the chamber were set six great thrones, each embossed with a sigil, though one was broken and the sigil gone. Icebellow pointed to each of them, naming them. "That's the thunderbolt of Thorim, Watcher of Storms. The leaf is Freya's, scion of life and daughter of Eonar. Mimiron's cog is there, symbol of innovation. There is the frost sigil of Hodir, father of the Frost Giants. And there is the the Eye of Loken, the Traitor."

"What of the broken seat?" Brann asked. "Which watcher is that?"

Icebellow shrugged. "I do not know. I thought there were only five watchers."

"There were six of us, once," a new voice said, and the party jumped, looking around for the source, but the chamber distorted the voice, making locating the source impossible. "The final seat, the seat of the Prime Designate, belonged to Odyn, once. He left, rejecting my plan. The fool. He left us to madness, and worse."

"Loken!" Muradin shouted, raising his hammer. "Traitor! Lier! Servant of Evil! Show yourself!"

Laughter echoed around the chamber. "Perhaps if Odyn were still here, you would not name me so. Perhaps if things had been different...but you cannot change time. Or fate."

"I disagree," Midna said, lifting her sword and assuming a fighting stance. "We are here as proof that fate is not set! That the Light will always find a way to push back the darkness!"

"Fools," a new voice hissed. "It is because of your presence that the old one is nearly free. You mortals know not in which you meddle!"

From the darkness, two figures emerged, one a giant at least 30 feet tall, the other human sized, but made of darkness with glowing white eyes.

"Well Aeonus, you spoke true. The mortals have come," Loken said, taking a seat upon his throne.

The humanoid form of the infinite dragon stood beside the throne, his white eyes sparkling with madness. "They have come to put the sands of time back within its glass, not knowing that the more they attempt to mend what they have broken, the more will slip through. Those of another world have brought Azeroth to the brink of destruction. It is up to you to give a gentle push."

"Yes, then at last it will all be over," Loken said, resting his head upon his hand as he slouched in his throne. "For aeons I have kept watch, and for what? Everything the titans made has gone to rot. It must all come to and end, and what other end is there than madness?"

"Oh that is just a load of bull," Muradin snarled. "You murdered your own brother's wife to hide an affair. Yer nothin' but a scared little boy tryin' to hide his own sins by playin' the martyr."

Loken cracked a smile, his eyes glowing with malice. "Rich, coming from one as fallen as you. A lost soul, trying to play the king, failing to live up to his family's legacy in every way by leading his friends to ruin once more. Perhaps I will make a gift of your corpse to the Lich King. A fitting end to your failed legacy."

"You all talk to much," Garrosh sneered, raising his axe and stalking forward. "I have a bone to pick with you, dragon. Once I have carved a trophy of your skull, I will deal with this stone man."

"I have plans for you, son of Grom," Aeonus said, staring down at the advancing orc. The dragon turned to Loken. "The others do with as you please, but the orc goes to your master."

"Naturally," Loken said, standing and clenching his fists. "I assure you, by the time I am done with these pathetic mortals, the sands of time will be scattered to the winds."

"Very good. I shall take my leave then." With that, Aeonis dissolved into a pile of sand, which blew away on a sudden gust of wind.

Swallowing, Ron lifted his axe and followed behind Garrosh and the Horde warriors, making their way along the edge of the pit. The air was rank and rancid, and Ron had to work not to retch once more.

Loken shook his head, still smiling down upon them. He clapped his hands together once. "Brothers, sister! Interlopers have come, set upon destroying all we have worked for!"

Ron froze, and a moment later, four shining pillars of light appeared next to the four empty thrones, and out stepped more gigantic watchers. Freya was feminine with a kindly face and golden robes, with dirt on her hands as if she had been digging in a garden. Mimiron was clearly some sort of mechanical gnome, despite being three times the height of a man. The other two male ones were alike in that they were clearly warriors, though Hodir was bare chested and seemed carved of ice, while Thorim was in leather and plate with a winged crown upon his brows.

"What is this?" Thorim rumbled, raising a hammer that crackled with lightning. "Mortals! You would dare defile these halls?"

Hodir slammed his fists together, cracking his knuckles with a sound like boulders grinding together. "Let us crush them! It has been to long since I had a good fight!"

"Wait, wait, I think this merits study," Mimiron protested, leaning forward to peer down at the party. "Look at them! They're completely taken by the curse of flesh. Perhaps with proper examination and dissection a cure for this malady can be found!"

"It saddens me whenever life must be ended," Freja lamented. "But like a garden, this world must be pruned."

"Thorim ya daft idiot, it's me, Yogg!" The bronzebeard dwarf thumped his chest, glaring up at the watcher. "Don't ya see? Loken's controlling ye! He's the one who murdered Sif! He's trying to set the Old God free! Ye've got to come to yer senses and stop him!"

Thorim put a hand to his forehead, wincing. "My love...betrayed...where...where am I?"

With a casual gesture, Loken stretched out his open hand to Thorim, and a flickering shadow sprang forth, linking his hand with Thorim's head. "Brother, these mortals tell nothing but lies," Loken said smoothly. "It was the work of mortals that led to your beloved's death."

Loken lowered his hand, and the shadow vanished. Thorim straightened, a rictus of rage enveloping his features. "MURDERS! I SHALL END YOU!"

With a boom of thunder, Thorim leapt down upon the party. Ron dove away, but Muradin held his ground, letting out a bellow of his own. "FOR KHAZ MODAN!" Suddenly, the dwarf grew to over 10 feet tall, his flesh half turning to stone as his iron half crackled with power. His own axe and hammer rose to meet Thorims, and the reverberation of the blow sent shockwaves around the chamber. The two giants began a furious battle, hitting each other with blows powerful enough to shatter the stone around them to bits.

"Ha! My turn!" Hodir swept down, swinging a great mace the size of most trees. To Ron's shock, Garrosh stepped into the blow, snarling and swinging his own axe. For a moment Ron thought the orc would be reduced to a greasy smear, but Rosalind and Midna both managed to cast protective and strengthening spells on Garrosh as the blow landed.

"You fool!" Rosalind grunted, straining to maintain her shield. "He could have ground you to dust!"

"A...true...warrior...never...backs...down," Garrosh grunted, straining with Hodir despite the fact that the giant was five times his size.

"Ha! You have spirit! Perhaps this will be a worthy battle after all!" Hodir boomed.

"Hmph. Muscle brained morons. This requires a more delicate touch." With the press of a button, Mimiron summoned a flying machine in the shape of his own head, which he climbed aboard. "Come, my specamines! It's time for your collection!"

The head swooped down over the battlefield, firing two machine guns as mechanicals claws snapped at unwary dwarves and horde warriors.

"Let the strength of Eonar soothe your wounds," Freya said, closing her eyes and extending her hands. Green leaves and vines spread for her to her battling brothers, healing the wounds they took as soon as they were inflected.

Backing away from the fight, Ron looked up at Loken, who was grinning and standing with his hands extended, flickering black shadows in his palms.

"He's controlling them!" Ron told Mylra, who was trying to zap Mimiron with lightning. "We have to stop Loken!"

"Lad it's all I can do to keep that damned giant gnome off our backs!" Myrla told him. "We'll deal with this lot, then we take on Loken!"

Ron looked up at Loken, who was now laughing hysterically. "Fools! All of you fools! No matter what happens here, I win! With each dead Watcher Yogg Saron's prison weakens! And if you fail, I shall offer our lives as sacrifice to the God of Death!"

"Oh no you bloody don't," Ron growled. He looked around, then grabbed Fengar who had been dodging Mimiron's passes. "Look! Him! That's who we have to kill! Come with me!"

Fengar looked up at Loken, then nodded grimly, his grip tightening on Gorehowl. "Yes. I shall prove myself worthy of the legacy of Hellscream!"

Dodging past the conflicts around them, Ron and Fengar scrambled up the steps, charging at Loken. The Watcher frowned and lowered his hands, turning towards Ron and Fengar.

"Pathetic. This is all they could send to face me? A lost boy, and a nameless warrior?" With a stop of his foot, Loken sent a wave of consuming darkness at Ron and Fengar.

"I'm not lost, I know right where I bloody am!" Ron threw down a totem of air, which sucked in the darkness, then shattered. The spirit within the totem let out an anguished cry, then vanished, the darkness having consumed it.

Ron winched, but didn't slow down, throwing down Reth's totem. "I release thee, spirit of flames! Reth, burn this scum!"

"RETH RETH RETH RETH!"

Flames burst from the ground as Reth drew itself out of the totem, growing to over 12 feet in height and blazing with such intensity that Ron had to shield his eyes and face from the light and heat. A wave of flames leapt from Reth at Loken, who bellowed in pain as they swirled around him.

"I have no time for this! Begon, child of Ragnaros!" Loken clapped his hands together before himself, and a volley of shadowy bolts flew at Ron and Reth. Ron dodged aside, but Reth bellowed in pain as they struck, then lashed out again at Loken.

"Artless, mindless beast! Perish!" Loken slammed his fist into Reth with a burst of shadowy energy. Reth let out a hiss like a dying fire and shrunk down, but grabbed on to Loken's fist, attempting to burn it.

The watcher hissed in pain, but did not relent, using his weight to bear Reth down to the floor, where he slammed his other fist into the elementals face. With whimper, Reth vanished back into his totem, wounded and weak.

"Your blows are nothing to me!" Loken growled, glaring at Ron from his crouching position. "Your servants are weak, and your magic petty! Is this the best you have?"

Ron grinned wickedly. "Aye, but I think me friend want's to have a go too."

Loken's eyes widened, but it was too late. Fengar had been circling around behind the watcher, and with a bellow lept up, striking at the crouching watcher as his axe wailed in triumph. Gorehowl caught loken in the neck, slicing deep into the stone. Loken let out a gurgle and fell, kicking out wildly. His left leg caught Fengar on the temple, and the orc went flying, his grip on Gorehowl failing and the axe falling silent as it tumbled to the ground.

Loken clutched a hand to his neck as shimmering magic leaked out, trying to struggle to his feet. Freya let out a cry of alarm and turned towards him, readying a healing spell. It was too late. Ron ran forward, leaping up with a burst of wind, and brought his axe down on Loken's temple with all his might. His axe bit deeply into the watcher skull, and with a last groan, loken fell to the floor, slain.

With Loken slain, the other for watchers sank to their knees, letting out cries of pain as they clutched their heads. Muradin managed to halt his blows on Thorim, panting and looking up at Ron. Garrosh however battered Hodir twice with his axe before Rosalind and Midna's cries brought him to his senses. Mimiron's copter spun out of control, crashing into the empty throne.

"Good work lad!" Brann cried, waving his hat. "Ye've done it! Loken is slain!"

"I...what happened?" Thorim groaned, struggling to his feet. "The last I remember, I was taken by foul dark dragons. Loken! Where is the snake?"

"He...he is dead," Freya gasped, looking over to Loken's throne, where Ron now stood over the fallen watcher. "Our brother is slain! By the hands of a mortal!"

"Good," Hodir growled, turning his head to spit out a bit of dark fluid. "He held us prison for far too long. I was trapped with in my own mind, trapped within a nightmare of his making. His death is justified."

"I do not disagree," Freya said mournfully. "But...look. The seal is broken. And with only four of us remaining, we cannot reseal the breach."

"Four of us?" Mimiron said, climbing out of the wreckage of his copter. "But what of the Prime Designate? Oh my head! Destroyed, after all that hard work…"

"You mean father?" Thorim said, gazing worriedly into the broken seal. "He left us long ago, Mimiron. And I do not know where to find him…"

"We must act, now, without delay, before the corruption spreads or the prisoner breaks loose!" Hodir declared. He winced slightly, touching his cheek were a slight scar remained from Garrosh's axe despite Freya's healing. "That was a good blow, little mortal. You fight well."

"Hmph. If we had not been interrupted, I would be using your bones as a toothpick," Garrosh rumbled, wincing slightly as he gingerly touched his the side of chest, where a large bruise remained from where Hodir had struck it, despite Rosalind and Midna's shielding.

"Mortals, you must leave at once!" Thorim proclaimed. "We four must go down to the prison, and slay that which we have sealed off for so long. I know not if we can succeed, but we must try, or Azeroth and all her peoples will be forever doomed!"

"Bollocks to that," Ron said, leaning up against Loken's throne as he wiped icor from his axe with a rag. "In case ye didn't noticed, we just fought the five o' ye to a stand still and killed the daft fool who started all this. I'm thinkin' if anyone has a shot at killing the thing ye couldn't kill when ye were six instead of four, it's us."

"Ha! The small mortal makes an excellent point!" Hodir chortled. "These fleshy creatures fight well! And besides, is this not their world now? If they wish to stand with us, we should allow it!"

"It would allow for a most interesting collection of data," Mimiron agreed. "Besides, they owe me for wrecking my command module! I'll never finish V-07-TR-0N now!"

Freya looked grieved, putting a hand to her chest. "You would risk all to accompany us. Even our brother, Loken, forged by the Titans themselves could not withstand the corruption of the Old God. I would not see life risked so, but perhaps there is no other way."

"Your courage does you credit, mortals," Thorim said gravel. He kelt, bowing his head. "It would be my honor and privilege to fight beside you while the fate of the world hangs in the balance."

Brann returned the bow, and soon so did the others, even Garrosh, though he really only inclined his head. "It will be our pleasure," Brann said.

Ron sheathed his axe, putting his hand on Reth's totem where the abused elemental slept, recovering. Perhaps this was the way home.

 _Authors Note:_

 _In case anyone is wondering, Muradin is now a cyber-squat. I mean cyber-dwarf. Basically, he looks like Cable, but also had a badass half iron beard._


	21. WAKES THE DREAMER: YOGG SARON

Lͨ̔͂̐ͤ̓ͤi̊ͫͨ̑͛ͨ͑fe̔̃ ͮ̽͒is̿ͧ ͬ̋̋a͊͗̋ͭ̊̑ ̊̒͆́dr̃ͩ͒ͭea̅̉mͤ̍ͭ̃ͯ̏. ̾W̔̈́ͪ̐̃̈́eͭͩ ͫ̃̽̂ͨ͆̎ãlͭ̏̅͊ͪ̀̚l̆̊ͣ̄ͮ ̉m̊̒̈̒̑uͬͫ̏̊̌̇ͥs͋̀̿̃̐t̑̐̏̿ ͛̇ͥ̋̀̚ẇ̈́a̒̆̑̓ͫ̊k̽́ͮͧ̔̂̎e̽̊̈̓ͯ.ͧ͐̏́̊̆̉ ͥ͗ͮͨͩ̂T͋̑iͧ̊̍̈mͪͩ̍eͫ̇̌̾̋̔̀ ͭiͮ̐̐̆s̋̔̏̌̿͐ ͥ̉̑͐̅̃ͥan ͗͂ͫ̑̽ill̅̃͑͒̒̇̚u͌sͥ̂̌̇͌̚ȉ̏̊͐͛͋ͨo͂̏̈́n̉ͬ̓.̏ͣ̂̾ ̍ͨ͗̋ͯ̏W̑̾͂̐͐̊̍ë́͊ ̈́̈́͒͗ͩ̾͑ȃͯͦ̒͌̅lͬ̂͑̄̏ͧ̆lͬͪ͐̌̅͊ ͂m͆ͥ̏̏uͪ̒̄̑̆ͯ̎sͫ̃ͨtͣ̔̀ͬͦ̍͐ s̓͆̉͐ĕeͤ̅. ͤ̈̀͌T̏̇̚h̅e ̀̀s̃̾ͨ́̏an̄d̅͑ͪͨ ̒r͌͊̿͗͐̃u͋nsͫ͑̆̾̍̾͌ ͂ͩͮ͊oͬ͐ͯ̇̌̌u̐͆ͤt̒̓̐̅,̈́̏ ̐ͣ̓theͯͩͭ ͑ͥ̌ͣ̽̑͐sͥͬ̎͛lèe͐̒̊́̍̚pe͗̇͌ͭr ͬ̄ͯ̓̓̚s̾ͬ̒͗̚t͑ͩ̓ͭȉͪ͂ͪ̚rͤ̈ͥ͛͑̃s̾ͣ.ͩ

̏ͧͮͤ̉

̈͋ͦ̏̄ͨͭC̈́͑̔ͧ̚o̾̃̾͊ͬm̎̎͆̚eͭͪͪ̐̅̓š̅̌̃͗͐̽ ͬ̆̋̔ͭ̓̚t͂ͮ̐̆̾̈́͗h̆ͥ̉̓̃̆e̍̾̃͊̊͒ ͌ͬ̎͌ͫ̃go̐ͣ̽͌͒̏d̐͂̑̅.̏ ̓ͪͦͭͨͦͯYͩo͋gͦ̋̄̎̍g ͐͆ͮ͋̔S̓̀ͥ̀̍ͬ̀ǎ̈́r̅ͮ̐ͭo̐ńͪͨ.̊

͋͂̿̓͂̏

Despite the pressing need for haste, everyone retreated from the sealed chamber to rest and recover for the night. The Watchers took everyone to a peaceful garden tended by Freya, where there was a spring of clear water, and the trees bore fruits of every kind. The orcs and dwarves grumbled about the lack of meat, but one look from Freya at the mention of killing some of the animals that lived within the garden quelled the mutters.

"A great battle lies ahead of us," Midna said to Thorim. "Are there any weapons or relics we could use in the coming battle? We have heard of the might of Val'anyr, the Hammer of Kings. Could we wield it against the Old God?"

"Val'anyr?" Thorim nodded slowly. "Yes, the weapon I gifted to the Frostborn many years ago. I have it, here, in the armory. But I must warn you: it is not what it once was."

Thorim took several members of the group to the Titan armory, where racks of weapons great and small hung.

"Many of these were forged by Mimiron and my father," Thorim said, fingering a sword larger than a full grown ogre. "They are imbued with the power of creation itself. Weapons worthy of great champions."

Garrosh looked around, a hungry look in his eyes. "Are these weapons great enough to slay a god?"

Thorim chuckled, shaking his head. "If any weapon is, it would be these. They were crafted to fight the Old Gods and their void minions."

"Good." Garrosh walked over to a massive axe that was easily eight feet tall, taller even than the giant orc. "Than I shall take this one." He tossed the crystalline axe to Midna, lifting the new weapon in his hands. Its blade glowed with inner fire, as lightning crackled along the haft. Garrosh lifted the axe in the air, grinning ferociously.

"That is Worldcarver, forged by my father for one of his valarjar kings," Thorim said, a note of sorrow in his tone. "Take it, and wield it with strength, warrior."

"Who was your father?" Ron asked, eyeing the weapons uncertainty. "Was his the broken throne?"

"Yes," Thorim said, but did not elaborate. He walked over to large chest up against a far wall, and opened it, lifting out what appeared to be a tiny hammer in his hands, but was actually a large and elaborate war hammer.

"This is Val'anyr, Hammer of Kings," Thorim said. "Or what remains of it."

Rosalind took the hammer from Thorim, turning it over in her hands. It was in two parts, the head and haft, both made of strange golden metal. "Broken...it cannot be…" Rosalind whispered. "Without the hammer, how can we hope to prevail?"

Midna put a comforting hand on her companions shoulder. "It will be alright. Trust in the light." She looked up at Thorim. "Surely this hammer can be reforged?"

Thorim shook his head. "It was made by my father. No other hand has the skill or material to reforge it. Crafted out of the blood of the Old God. Only with that could it be remade."

Rosalind hissed and held the hammer away from her. "Surely if it was made from that cursed thing, this too is corrupted."

Thorim bent down, taking the hammer in his hands. "No. It was purified by the hand of the Prime Designate. Nothing is so tainted it cannot be restored. If the hammer were once more dipped in the blood of an Old God, perhaps I could remake it."

"Then that is what must be done," Midna said firmly. "With this hammer renewed, we could reforge fate itself."

Ron frowned at Midna. "What are ye goin' on about? Why exactly do you need to reforge fate?"

Midna hesitated, then smiled at Ron. "For the future of your family."

Ron reached for the hammer in Thorim's hands, looking to Midna. "You need this, to save my family?"

"For Earth to be preserved and your line to endure, fate must be changed, Ronald Weasley. With Val'anyr, I will attempt to do just that," Rosalind said.

Ron shook his head. "I don't know what ye mean by that, but by the Aerie if that's what we need for me to get home and back to my family, then that's what we'll do." He looked back at the wall of weapons, frowning. "Ye got anymore o' them godslayin' weapons layin' about do ye?"

"I have one, Bane of Loken," Thorim said. He pointed to a mace hanging from the wall at head height for Ron. "Aesuga, Hand of the Ardent. Forged by my boon-brother Mimiron, in the days of his youth. It is the mightiest weapon ever made by his hand."

Ron walked over to the mace and lifted it. As soon as it was in his hands, he felt growing connection to the spirits of the earth and storm. He lifted the mace, examining the crystal at the center that two studs slowly orbited. "A powerful weapon. One to call upon the strength of the earth and the might o' the storm."

"Indeed. Bear it well, champion. You shall need such strength when we face the Old God."

They rested that night in the garden of Freya, warded by spells cast by the three shaman and by Rosalind and Midna, as well as the Watchers. Ron's sleep was dreamless, and he woke rested, though his heart was still heavy with dread. They supped upon a final meal, Freya presenting them with meat and mead.

"It pains me to take any life," the watcher said, her expression weary and worn. "But you shall need your strength in the coming battle. Let not this little one's sacrifice be in vain, Champions of Azeroth."

The meal was taken in silence, and though it should have been delicious, it tasted like ash in Ron's mouth. Then they girded themselves for battle, strapping on armor, taking up weapons, and casting spells of strength and warding upon each other. They went to the exit of the garden, where the four watchers waited for them.

"Come, mortals. Now we descend into the Maw of Madness," Thorim told them.

They followed the watchers back out the sealed chamber, then down a long hallway that twisted back in upon itself. The light bent in strange ways, and shadows seemed to first vanish, then become unnaturally long. The air was thick and heavy, full of dampess and heavy with the scent of death.

 **En'othk uulg'shuul. Mh'za uulwi skshgn kar.**

"What was that?" Ron said, jerking around. The air seemed to hum with unheard whispers, and his eyes darted back and forth.

"Do not heed the voices," Hodir rumbled. "Listening to them leads only to madness."

Resting his hand on the haft of his hammer, Thorim peered down the hall. "We are close. I sense the presence of the void ahead."

The corridor itself decayed as they went on, broken pillars and masonry, fragments of stone and earth floating in the air, and twisting shadows at the edge of Ron's vision.

 **Sk'yahf qi'magg luk sshoq anagg'qen.**

Ahead of the group, the watchers halted.

"Hmmm. hmmm. The faceless are loose," Mimiron muttered. "This not good."

Ron pressed forward, peering around the legs of the watchers. They stood at the head of a broken and shattered staircase, looking down up a room that had clearly once been a thing of beauty, with stained glass windows and a fountain from which clear water had run. Now the glass was distorted, showing not images of beauty, but reflections of a twisted world where nothing remained but death. The waters of the fountain were fouled and stank, bubbling out in lethargic spurts.

Worse of all though, were the beings that swayed back and forth in an endless circuit of the room. They had no faces, only a long tentacle with glowing points of malevolent light. Their arms and legs were covered in suctions cups, and they had neither feet nor hands, only tendrils that split off from the main truck, then merged back into it, only to reform elsewhere like waving strands of hair. They whispered and muttered, and though it was in a language Ron could not have spoken and did not understand, he knew what they said.

È̴͡v̛͞͝e҉͞n͟͞ d̶̕e̢̕ath҉ ̢͡m̴͢͡á́y͢͡͞ ̡̢ḑ̕i̛͞e͏̶.̢͜

̷̀҉A̕ll̷̵ ̢̧p̶̀͡l͜ac͏ę̵̢s҉̀̕, ̵͜à̴̡l͞l ̧t͢h̸i͝͞n͘͡g͟s̀̀ ̶h͞av͏e̢͟͢ ̴s̵ou͠l̴҉̴s͏̕. ̢À͏̛l̷l ̴so̸ul͘s̛͘͞ c͘a̧͏͞n b́ę ̢d̢̛e҉v̢o̡͏́u̸͘͢re̕͝d́.͏̵́

̶̧̀

́Ĺ̡͞o̶̵o̸̵k̛͝ ̶͠ar҉̢̕o̵ù̧n͟d̴҉́. ̡̕The̢ý̢̢ ̨̕w̡͝ì̵͝l̸l̸̢ ̛̀a̡͜l̶̷͘ļ͢ ̸́bè̴̵t͘r͜͡͡a͟y҉ ͝҉̵you͠.͟ ̵F̀͢l̢ęe̢͟͠ ́͡ś̷c̛͜͝rea͏̨͟m̴ìn̸g͢͞ ̸̧i̴̡n҉͝t͠o͜͜ ̢͠t̢h͢͞e̵̛̕ ̡͜͜b̵͡l̀͠a̧҉͜c͞ḱ͘ ͟͢fo҉͞r͏̴̧e̷ś͞t̷͜.́

͜

͘I̴̢͞ţ͢ i҉s̕ ͠s̕͞ta̵n̨d̛͞i͏n̢͠g̶ r̡̛͞íg̨҉h̢t͏ ͠b̴̢e̛h̷͏ind̵͜͡ y͞ò͜ư͘.̡ ̷͝D̶͝o̶͜͟ ̴no͘t̴ ̶͜m̸o̕v̡e.̸̢͢ D̶̛ò͏͝ ҉̕n̕҉҉o̷̡̢t͜ ͠҉bre̢͡͞áth҉è̢͡.̛

̡̀

"We have to stop it," Ron moaned, clutching at his head and sinking to his knees.

"Be strong, lad," Myrla said, trying to help Ron up. Her grip was clammy, and her face was drenched in sweat, her teeth chattering despite the heat.

"Servants of evil! Your time has come!" Thorim boomed. "This world will be cleansed, the work of the Titans will never be undone!"

With a roar, all four watchers leapt down, their weapons crackling with power. Thorim bashed in the head of one faceless with his hammer, while Hodir's mace beat one to the floor. Vines and leafy plants eveloped two more at Freya's gesture, dragging down their victims. Mimiron produced a massive gun with four rotating barrels seemingly from nowhere, laughing maniacally as he gunned down more faceless.

"Blood and thunder!" Garrosh roared, and lept upon one faceless, Worldrender slicing it in half.

Ron shouted a desperate battlecry and jumped down as well, using Aesuga to call upon the earth, which bucked and trembled beneath the faceless, stunning them as Mylra hurled lightning down upon them.

In a minute, it was over, the faceless slain, icor staining the fouled floor.

"That's...that's it?" Ron panted, looking around. "Well, that wasn't so bad. Where's their boss?"

The room suddenly titled wildly, the ground seeming to slide out from under Ron's feet. He shouted and feel, but instead of falling down, he fell sideways to one of the walls, where he stuck as if it were the ground, despite still feeling the pull of the earth in another direction. The others fell as well, some onto the wall, others to the ceiling or the opposite side.

 **H͡ERE͢ ̶̡̨T̴H̷E̷̡R̢̕҉E͘͡ I̷̢S ́͢N̢͢Ó͞͞ ͞R̵EA͢͏҉S̶̴͘ON.͝ WIT̶͠͡H͏I̴̢N̵̷ ̡̛MY̸͏̢ ̴͢RE͏̷A̶̧L̡̛Ḿ̵,̵̀ ̡THE̶R͜͢͞È̸͘ I͢S̸ O̷̶̷N̡Ĺ͝Ý ̶̛M̀͞A̴͘͞DǸ͜͠ES͞Ś͠.̸͢**

Ron clutched his head, peering wild eyed through the shattered doorway at the end of the chamber. Though the voice had no sound, he could hear it coming from there, just beyond what his ears could discern.

"That, lad, would be the boss," Brann said, his voice weary.

"Good. Perhaps it will be more of a challenge," Garrosh declared. He strode forward, in step with the watchers as they pushed through the rotted remains of the door.

Ron stumbled after them, the direction his feet were pulled seeming to change at every step. He found himself on the ceiling, then the wall again, then the floor. If his stomach had not been tempered by flying a gryphon for years, he would have lost his breakfast. Several orcs and one of the frostborn did, falling to their knees trembling and babbling madly. Grimacing, Ron pressed on through the doorway.

"Oh, you are here!"

Ron blinked. Where was he? He looked around, baffled.

"Please, you have to help me, they are coming!"

Forcing himself to focus, Ron found himself in a dark forest, black trees stretching endlessly around him as branches clawed at the sky overhead. Before him stood a little girl, her face streaked with tears. She wore a simple brown dress, her dark hair pulled back in two pigtails by pink ribbons.

"Oh, oh they are coming. Please! Save me, save me!"

"I will, don't worry," Ron vowed. He drew his axe...his axe? He frowned, and the axe became his mace. Gripping Aesuga, Ron raised it as dark shapes came out of the forest. He brought his mace down on one hard, and gazed down at-

"Dad?!" Ron asked in astonishment, staring at the bloody face of Arthur Weasley.

"They're after me, help, please, help!"

Ron turned and saw a shape looming over the little girl, and ran forward, sending out a shock of flames. The figure fell, turning so he could see the face of Isla Forgelight. He stumbled back, then clutched his head as a splitting headache struck him. Laughter echoed in the woods, and dark whispers tickled the back of his mind.

"No, oh no, help!"

Ron whirled, another looming over the cowering girl. He shook his head. Something wasn't right. The spirits were all wrong. He closed his eyes, clutching onto Reth's totem and Aesuga. When he opened his eyes, he saw the frightened face of his eldest brother Bill. The girl wasn't cowering, her eyes were glowing with dark fire, and she was drawing Bill towards her.

"You're not real!" Ron shouted, and he pointed his mace at the girl. A fireball erupted from the tip, slamming into the girl.

"What are you doing!" the girl hissed, glaring at Ron. "Help me! They will destroy you!"

"They're my family!" Ron said, looking around. Fred and George, Douglas and Sharpbeak, Mylra and Ginny, they were all his family. "You're the one who doesn't belong!"

"Love is a weakness! It will drag you down, bring you to your death!" the girl roared, and dark flames sprang from her hands towards Ron.

He dodged to the side, unleashing a bolt of lightning then bringing his mace down on the girls head. She vanished like smoke, and the world spun about, the branches of the trees bending down and lashing at Ron. One tree picked him up, and threw him through the air. He screamed and-

Ron tumbled to the ground, looking about wildly. The forest was gone, but trees still surrounded him. Except they were not trees, but tentacles that sprouted from the earth. Ron roared in pain and rage, hurling fire and lightning as he lashed out with Aesuga, battering back the tentacles and freeing himself from their grasp. He stumbled forward, and gasped in shock.

Before him, the watchers were battling with a...thing. It was one large mouth, with a row of what should have been eyes above it, except instead of eyes there were only more mouths, each more full of teeth than the last. Tentacles grew from the base and top of the thing, slamming into the watchers and hurling frostborn and orcs about as they cried out in terror. Garrosh stood back to back with Fengar, battling tentacles as he roared in anger and rage.

"Ron! You're free of the madness?" Midna asked, coming over steadying Ron on his feet.

"I...I can see what's happening," Ron managed. "What...what was that?"

"Madness," Midna said, turning back and raising her sword. "Madness and lies! We fight on!"

Ron nodded, racing forward to aide the watchers, hurling lightning and fire at tentacles and trying to make sense of it all.

 **Y̡̕O͠UR̡͢ ̧̕͟S̶̛T̕R͞͡U̴G̸̕GL̸̛E̷ ͏̨͜I͜S͠ M̛͢E͠AN̕҉͞ĮN̴G͢͞L̡È̶̕SS.̀͡ Á͘̕L̡R̀E҉A͝͠D̡̀̕Ý͜͝ ̷͘Y̵͡O͠Ų̛ ͡H̡Á̢VE҉ S͟͡LA͜I̢͏N͜͡ ͘̕̕F͜A͟͜T͢͡E!̧̨̀ ͟N͢O̢͟Ẁ ̡T̕͠͝H̵E̡̧ ͟W͜O̷R̷̶̕LD HA̵̛͝S̴͡ ͞N̶̨҉Ǫ ̴͞S͜͞҉T̡͢R̨͠IN̵̨͡G̵̶S͏̕҉, A̢̢͘ND ̸͞T̨͠H̵͞È ҉͡SA͟͜Ń̵D̕S͝͝ ̶O̧͘̕F ̀T̵Ì̸ME̡ ̷̨͢B͢L̡O̵͡W ̴̸I͡N̵̛ TH̕̕͠E͡ ̷́W͞I̡͟͞N͜͠D͜҉ W̷̧I̢͝TH̢ ͢T̨HĘ̸ ̛͠W̡A̷̢I͢͞L͡I҉N̴̷̛G͘̕ ̨͟Ǫ̶͜F̴ ̡L̕Ớ̧S̢̧T ̷͠͡S̢͢͏ƠUĹ̛S̶̀.͞**

Just as Ron was reaching the monster, twin tentacles erupted from the ground under his feet, grabbing both him and Midna. The draenei screamed, blasting at the tentacles with a surge of holy magic as Ron bashed with his mace. The tentacles dropped them, but instead of hitting the floor, they feel down, down, into blackness. A green portal appeared below them, and both fell through onto a set of dusty stairs.

"Stay strong," Midna groaned, standing up and holding her sword in a warding stance.

"I know this place," Ron said, reaching towards the portal. "This the Dark Portal. I remember seeing it, when I-"

Midna flung out a hand towards Ron, shouting, "No, don't!"

But Ron touched the portal, and suddenly they were through it. Ron blinked, looking around them. A stream of people were going by, dusty and worn from travel. Most were human, though there were orcs, dwarves, tauren, draenei, all the peoples of Azeroth, streaming into the Dark Portal. They all seemed seemed terrified, shouting and pushing forward to get through the portal. To the sides of the portal stood guards, some in the uniform of the Alliance, others bearing the tabard of the Horde. Most of the guards were wounded and ragged, bleeding from various wounds.

A red haired woman in dark leathers with a red bandana around her neck rode up on a horse, reining in next to a human in an officer's uniform. "Captain! Where is my daughter?"

"Through the portal, my queen," the captain declared. "Had to drag her in kicking and screaming they did. Most of this lot are already through. You can see the vanguard, there."

The guard pointed, and Ron followed his finger. The collom of people was hurrying forward, with soldiers at the end, fighting off a vast army of the undead. Actually, that was the wrong way to put it. It was a tidal wave, a storm, the very earth itself crawled with endless ranks of undead. Some were ghouls, others skeletons, some abominations, others simple corpses raised to shamble forward. Above gryphons and wyverns battled frost wyrms and gargoyles.

The soldiers encircled the portal, and they fought and died. They were members of the Alliance and Horde both, and even odd races Ron had never seen before. All fought as one against the oncoming tide of the undead.

 **BEHOL̀D̨ ͏T͢HE ͞DOÒM OF̡ TH̨IS ͘WOŖLD̶. T҉HIS ̴I҉S̷ ̵THE F͞AT͜E O͡F҉ ͢H̶ARR͞Y̧ PO͝T̡T͡ER͝.̡ SE͡É YOUR CHA҉M҉P̴I͟ON̡ OF҉ T͟HE LIGH͏T͜ ͜F̶A̵LL.**

"No!" Midna cried, falling to her knees and clutching her head. "No, this isn't real!"

Ron's gaze swept the soldiers, and his jaw dropped. There, right where the fighting was fiercest before the portal, stood a human man in full crystal plate with a lightning bolt scar upon his forehead. In his hands was a sword marked with runes that blazed with light, and where that sword struck, the undead became as ash. At his side battled a draenei shaman who danced with the winds and called healing rains down upon the heads of the defenders.

"For Argus!" Harry Potter roared. "For the Argent Crusade!"

Harry struck down wave after wave of undead with his holy might, standing like a stone that the waves of the ocean would break against.

"That's the last of them!" the woman upon the horse shouted as the last refugee made their way through the portal. She turned and waved. "Come on Harry, bring the last of our soldiers through! I'll see you on the other side!" With that the queen herself vanished through the portal, leaving behind an ever shrinking circle of defenders.

"I'm sorry," Harry said, panting as he struck down an abomination. "Not this time."

"I won't leave you, Harry," the draenei shaman said. "I cannot abandon you to this."

"Go, Impa! Our daughter needs you," Harry pleaded. "Our people need you! Make your stand upon Draeneor. Find a way to end this!"

Before Impa could protest further, the ranks of the Scourge parted, and great skeleton in silken robes with a crown upon its forehead floated forward.

"Potter. I knew this day would come," the Lich hissed. "I will slay you and claim this portal. Nothing can escape the grasp of the Scourge."

Harry nodded wearily, backing up to the steps of the Dark Portal. "Voldemort. I should have known."

What few soldiers still lived backed up to the edge of the portal. Impa looked pleadingly at Harry, but he shook his head. "I will end this. Go." He handed his sword to Impa, taking up the blade of a fallen Stormwind guard. "Go!"

Tears in her eyes, Impa fled through the portal. A handful of paladins stayed behind with Harry, blocking the path to the portal at his side.

"I has been an honor, Harry Potter," a blood elf paladin in blood red armor said. She spat into the dust. "Let us make our end here."

"There is no end in the Light, Lady Liadrin," Harry said calmly. "In the end, evil will never prevail."

"Foolish words, Potter. Nothing you can do can change fate!" Voldemort laughed.

"No, please," Midna whispered. "Not this. Fate has to change."

With a cry, Harry and the other paladins lept at Voldemort. The lich spread his hands, and chains of ice slammed into them. Several paladins were killed immediately, but Harry and Liandrin dodged the ice, their blades glowing with holy power. Voldmort hissed, breathing out a cloud of toxic green fog. The paladins shielded themselves with the Light, but both coughed and stumbled. Voldemort roared in triumph, conjuring spears of ice and hurling them forward. Harry slashed one aside and LIandrin caught the spike on her metal shield. Both paladins raced forward, slashing at Voldemort with their blades. The lich fell back with a cry, and the battle continued.

Ron watched in growing horror, then raised his hands and threw fire and lightning at the lich. They passed through Voldemort with no effect, and neither Harry nor Liandrin seemed to notice anything had happened either.

"I can't do anything!" Ron said in frustration. "This isn't real! We have to stop this somehow!"

Slowly, Midna got to her feet. Numbly, she nodded. "Yes. This is nearly over. We have to stop...this. Somehow."

Ron looked back at the battle to see Harry and Liandrin standing over a prone Voldemort.

"This...changes...nothing…" Voldemort rasped. "I will return again and again! You cannot slay me here!"

"We never planned to," Harry said calmly. He threw down his weapons, and held out his gauntleted hand to Liandrin as the Scourge closed in. "Let us end this."

Closing her eyes, Liandrin took Harry's hand. Together the two paladins lifted their clasped hands to the sky. Suddenly, the sun flared, and a shaft of burning fire came down from the heavens. The surging light obliterated Voldemort and all the Scourge for a hundred yards. Ron shielded his eyes, then spun about when he heard a cracking sound. He watched as the Dark Portal collapsed and melted to slag, the green gateway at the center vanishing with a snap. When the Light faded, there was nothing left of the two paladins, or of Voldemort. Where the portal had been, a little girl danced, her braids bouncing as she laughed madly.

 **H̴IS̵ DEATH͘ ̀HA͝S ͡A̕L̀R͟E̶ADY ͢BEEN O̧R̷DAIN͝E̸D̨. Y̕OU͝ C̕ANNOT͢ ͠CH͟AN̢G̷E TH̴IS. ̛THI͜S ͟WORLD ẀI͘L̕L B͟E͠ ̶CO̴ŅS̢U̧MĘD҉.̛ THE ̢S̵A͞ŅD̕S͠ ̢ÒF T̛IM҉E W͝IL͡L̴ SP̕ILL͡ OUT҉ ̡LI̵KE ̷B̸L̶O͜OD̡ ̴ĄN͏D I S͠HALL DE̴V͠O̢UR ̶THE͡ SO̕U͘L҉Ś OF A͟L͟L͘.́**

Ron snarled, turning to Midna. "There, that's Yogg Saron! Hit it with all you've got!"

Midna let out a wordless cry of pain and agony, striking at the girl with her sword, the runes upon it blazing like those on Harry's blade earlier. Ron channeled fire and lightning, and there was a bellow of pain and rage.

Suddenly everything vanished, and Ron found himself on the floor of the chamber again. He picked himself up, looking around. More faceless had arrived, and were doing battle with Brann, Muradin and Mylra, who along with the remaining Frostborn were holding the line. Ron picked himself up, looking back at the creature. The watchers still attacked it, and it was oozing from several wounds, but still it struck with tentacles and dark bolts of void magic.

"Ron, Midna, what happened!" Rosalind said, coming over and laying a hand on Ron. He felt a surge of healing magic go through him.

"A vision, a nightmare," Ron gasped. "An impossible future."

"It won't happen," Rosalind vowed. She ran forward to the keepers, grabbing the broken hammer from Thorim's belt and bending down to a dark pool of the old gods blood and plunging it in.

"Draenei! I need your aide!" Garrosh shouted. Ron saw him battling a venerable forest of tentacles, slicing away with Worldcarver in one hand and the crystalline axe in the other, scything down tentacles like they were dry reeds.

Midna shouted a battle cry and ran to Garrosh's aid. Ron saw Rosalind struggling to lift the hammer from the pool, and rushed to her side to pull it free

 **I̵T IS ͢H͏O̴P̴ELE͏SŚ.̧ YO͟Ù ͢CAN ̵DÓ ͡N͝OTHI̶N͡G̡. I ̕HAVE ̸AL͟R͏EA̷DY WO͜N͞.**

Ron tried to scream as bolts of void magic enveloped Rosalind and Ron, but instead of dying he found himself falling into nothingness again. A moment later his vision cleared, and he found himself inside of the Temple of Light in Shattrath city. He blinked, looking around in confusion.

"I've been here before too," Ron muttered. "What crazy thing are you going to show me now?"

"Oh no," Rosalind whimpered. She raised her sword. "Not this. I can't...not, not again!"

Ron heard voices, and hurried forward to investigate. He found a darkened room with a red skinned eredar male in it, standing with his arms folded over his chest, looking at the back of a winged female demon with horns coming out of the sides of her head. "Listen, toots, we gots to do somethin'. The Scourge is still out there. The Legion is closin' in. We're gonna get crushed, like we was imps or somethin'."

"I know, Pizyap."

Ron's jaw dropped. "No…"

The female demon turned around. She had frizzy brown hair, and buck teeth. Though her skin was now the color of old blood and her eyes glowed with fel power, Ron recognized her all the same.

"Hermione, what did you do?"

"It is not her, Ron," Rosalind rasped. Her face was streaked with tears, and the hammer shook in her hands like a leaf in the wind. "This is all lies. This is not the fate we choose."

"We have to save our friends, even if they don't think of themselves as such any longer," Hermione sniffed. She tapped long taloned nails on her arm, then nodded. "I have conducted a great deal of research into the undead. More than anyone else here. Undeath is not so bad. We both know this. Why, our former friend Lady Sylvanas lived quite a fulfilling life for many years as an undead. If I hadn't used demon blood instead, becoming undead would have been quite the attractive option."

"Yeah, well, that might have been easier on me," Pizyap muttered.

Ron frowned. "This can't be real. He's actually an imp."

"It is not real," Rosalind repeated, more firmly this time. Her hands started to steady. "We make our own fates."

"So, you gonna try and contact the Lich Bitch?" Pizyap the eredar asked. "I'm all for it. Just as long as we make it out in one piece."

"I shall stipulate that the girl gets to live. She has more potential as a test subject alive, for now," Hermione said. Then she nodded. "I shall summon Voldemort's spirit. Even if he has become corporeal again, he will come at my call. He has the ear of their ruler. Yes, with his aide, we can safely convert all of Outland to the Undead, and proceed with our research in peace."

"You want we should use the Thought Outsourcer, make Queenie and her friends go along with this?" Pizyap asked.

Hermione shook her head. "No, no, that has too many risks. They know what the thought outsourcer is. Best if we plant a knife in their back instead. After all, if I claim those souls, they shall be my friends for all eternity. They will have no choice."

"This not real!" Rosalind shouted, and swung at Hermione and Pizyap with Val'anyr. Their images rippled, and the illusion dissolved. Ron turned to see the little girl standing behind him, grinning wickedly up at him.

 **TH͝E FU̢TU͏RE ̸H͡AS͜ B͠EE͜N R͞E͠VEĄL̕E͏D ͏TÒ ͠M͠E͟.͏ ̵Y̨O̕UŔ FR̵I͢E͢ND̵S ̕WI͟L͘L BȨT̨RAÝ ͝Y̛ÓU. IT͝ ͞IS ̛H̢OPE͝ĹES͢S. GIV̧E̡ ͠I̡N TO ME.̵ ̷NO̶W͏ OR͞ ̀L͢ATE͘R.́ ͢I̵T̀ ͢W͠ILL͠ NOT MAT͟TER WH̶EN T̸IME ͠ITSEL̨F ͘IS SĻAIN̕.͏**

"I'll slay you instead!" Ron screamed, and ran forward at the same time as Midna. He planted his axe in the girls forehead, and once more reality rippled.

Back in the chamber, Yogg Saron bellowed in pain and rage, spewing forth a stream of black bile. Ron saw Rosalind desperately lifting up Val'anyr, the two halves joined once more, but black bile still coating the thing.

"There, she can end it!" Midna cried, and sprang forward. Ron reached down, and together they helped Rosalind, lifting the hammer up. Ron channeled as much healing water as he could, as the two women cast holy spells.

 **NO!̧ NOTH͟ING̢ CAN̢ S̕T͝OP ̀D́ÈA͡T͠H̢! ̶T̡H͟AT ̷W҉HICH D͢OE̶S ̷ŃO̵T ̡LĮV҉E C̡AN͡N͜ƠT͞ ̶D̛I͡E̡! ̨YOU ̴HAVE FAIL͘E̶D̢, ҉ÀND ҉WILL̀ FAI͢L̢ A҉G̨AI͠N͡ A҉ND͠ A͘G͘AI͞N ͢U̷NTIL̀ TI̕M͘E͝ R҉U̧N͞S ̡OU̡T!͏**

The mouth of the beast opened once more, and a rain of black bile coated all three of them.

Once more, Ron blinked. Rosalind stood to his left, bearing the hammer, whole and glowing with power. Midna was to his right, her sword raised once more. He looked before him, and saw the little girl, floating in mid air and grinning at him. He flinched. Her eyes had been replaced with endless black holes filled with teeth.

 **T͖̦͎͉́h̸̳̻̞̟̯͎̥e͕̰͢ ̪̹͙̘͓ͅḍ̜͈̠͓e҉͓͕̗̻̰͍a̡̪t͓͈̝̻̮́ͅͅh̴͚̩ͅ ͇͢o̰̘̯̝̗̹̝f̨̯̠͚̥ ̸͈̹̟̬̙y̫̯͙͔o̝̝̹͔̗̮̩͠u̡̩͔̰̲r̪̼̼̳̘ ͍̻͜c̠̖̹̟̘̖l̝̭̭̥o̸̳s̰es̮t ̞f̜͈̩̹͍̠r͚̫̻͎͡ì͎̗ȩ̜̩̪͓̩͔̦n̜̯̠d ̻̹̬̀y̘̯̫͓͍͖o̠͠u͏͙̟͇̩̻ ͔͖̭h̦a҉͔̤̯̻̠̯̺v̪̥̙͎e̻͘ ͕̻͙͓̳̯͠s̙̬͙̲͕̹e҉̰͙͎͍̩͎e̯̭n̖̲̫.̪̖̬ ̫̼̠͚̕T̸͙̟̜h͔̻͟ͅe̴̥̼̦̺̥͓ ̠̣͚̣b҉̭͓̘͓̭e̙̥͙̟̺̞͎țr͙̜̺̘͜a͈͚̭̘̣̗̜͟y̙͖̖̣̯̝͟a͉̠͔̫l̵̖̗ ̹̰̻̖̥ǫ͎̙̗̪̲̘̖f̹ ̨̳͍͓̳̞̜ơ̳̬̦̜ͅne̷̖͖͖̖̮̦̥ ̖̰͖y̵̥̭͇̹͔̗o̞̼̹͕u͢ ̜͍̦͔̤̘̟͟w̧̹͍̪̮̮̻͔ơ͈͇̱̲u̲̬̕l̨̬d ̴̲̹̼̹h̷͇̮a̷ve̪ ̝̖̩̟l̵̳̺͕ov̻̜̲ͅe͈͝d̠̹͎͙̦ ̢̪m̥̺̬͖͈o̴̺͕͙̜̝̪s͇̩͞t̸ ̪̙̀y̞̩̩o̥̘̱̫u̟̭̪̘̗̼͡ ͓̕h̴̼̼̖͙a̱̲̘̭̼̝v͏͓̰͕̺e̷͇͚̠͎̥͚ ҉̺̬w̱͢i҉͉t͏̹͓̬̥̲ͅn͢e͏̬̥sse̺̯͉̼d͞.͍̦̼̳ ̙̠̦̠̻͈N̬̰͉̻̫͉o̬̼͔̗̻w͏̖̲̠͔ ̻̪̩͔y̜̭̫͢o̬̞̞̠̩̳̲u ̩͙́s̫͎ę̩͚̝e̦̼͎̲ ̫̜͎̤͎͓̹y̞̲̬̲̕o̗̣ͅu̱̬̠ͅͅr̦̥̲͘ ̝͎͇͙͔͎̕o̺̤̘w̻̼̗̼̘n͙̗͈̭ ͡ḏ̦̭͔̹̰e͏͇͇͕a̯͈͉̘̦͙̣t̞̠̘̟h.̧̻ͅ**

The girl vanished, and Ron looked around. They were flying, high above the clouds. Before him flew a man on the back of a gryphon, wild red hair in long braids streaming behind him, his beard whipping in the wind. Suddenly he dived, and Ron was falling along with the man. Then they were on the ground, on the steps of a golden pagoda.

"What happened here?" Ron muttered, looking around. Below the pagada, the landscape was corrupted, black and white stains maring the landscape as if a great fire had raged through it. The trees were shrunken and twisted, and the air stank of decay.

The man in front of Ron petted the gryphon, then walked down the steps to where a bear-man was kneeling.

"Chen, this had best be good. I was to take me little ones fishin' while their mum goes wit' yer niece to tame wind serpents," the man said.

The bear man turned, smiling. "Ah, Ron, it is good to see you again. Yes, yes, you will get back to your wife and children soon enough. It is just, you were in Northrend, yes?"

"That's me?" Ron asked, astonished.

Next to him, Midna sighed. "That is not you. It is only the future Yogg Saron wishes to force us to. It is not our fate. We can choose another path."

Rosalind looked at Ron and Midna. "You saw Harry. And I, Hermione. Was it bad?"

Midna sighed. "What I saw was bad enough, yes."

"I don't understand any of this," Ron said grimly. "But this is all just smoke and mirrors. How is this supposed to frighten me?"

Ron turned back to the bear man and his supposed future self.

"-can't possibly be. Arthas is long defeated," not-Ron was saying. "But we'd best check it out, all the same."

Reluctantly, Ron followed after the two, Midna and Rosalind at his side. After a few minutes of walking, the illusions dropped to the ground and belly crawled forward to the edge of a cliff.

"They appeared two days ago," Chen whispered. "A strange pyramid like thing floated out of the corrupted pools. The Shado-Pan agents sent to investigate never returned. And more arrive all the time. We are preparing an attack to drive them back."

"Those are Scourge," not-Ron whispered back. "But how did they get here, in Pandaria? What is going on? We've got to warn the Horde and the Alliance. Vol'jin will listen to sense, and Varian was always-"

There was a roar, and Ron looked up. A frost wyrm was dropping out of the clouds straight at the two spies. He grimaced as battle was joined, not-Ron even calling upon Reth.

"This is all a load of bollocks," Ron growled. He looked around. "I know you're here, little girl, Yogg Saron, whatever you are! Show yourself! I will slay you and be done with this!"

 **TH̢IS ͝I̴S̢ WH̀ÀT W̴ILL ̨HAP̢PEN̡. ̶HA͜S̀ A͠L͝RE̡AD̵Y ͡H̶AP͞PȨN̷ED. ͟WI̴LL H̵AP̡PE͡N͡ ҉A͜GAIN̨, A̴ND͠ ̸A͞G҉AIN̨, AǸD ̡AGAIN.͠ ͟Y̴O͠U͝ CAN̵NOT͘ ͘S̡T̀O̧P ̕IŢ. IT͜ IS ̢YOU͢Ŗ D͜E̕S̛T̵I̛NY.͜**

Behind him, Ron heard Sharpbeak's scream as it joined the battle. There were more bellows, and more frost wryms descended. Soon, Chen was dead, and not-Ron and Sharpbeak tried to fly away, pursued by frost wryms. They got away, but more undead pursued them.

Suddenly, Ron spotted the little girl, floating over a black pool. He shouted and let loose a wave of flames. The little girl screamed, and the illusion vanished once more.

"No more!" Rosalind snarled. "No more lies! No more fate! Our destiny is our own!" she raised Val'anyr, and a wave of radiant light surged out of her, banishing all shadows in the room. Yogg Saron screamed in pain, shying away from the brilliant light.

Seeing their chance, all four watchers struck at once. Thorim's thunder boomed, Mimiron's guns barked, Freya's vines coated the beast, and Hodir's mace fell like a landslide. With a final gurgle, Yogg Saron slumped over, dead. The tentacles dissolve to black, and the faceless ones cowered in confusion and fear, easy pray for Muradin and Brann.

Ron sank to his knees, panting for breath. "Is it over?"

"No." Rosalind slung Val'anyr on her back. "We have only just begun."

"That was it?"

All eyes turned to Garrosh, who was standing over the corpse of the dead god, his two axes upon his back. "That was all this thing had to offer? Illusions and tentacles? That was all there was?"

"Garrosh, no," Midna cried, stretching out her hand.

Garrosh ignored everyone, reaching in to the corpse and pulling out a pulsing brain from the beast.

Freya shook her head. "Leave that, mortal. It can only corrupt. It will give you nothing!"

"Great power," Garrosh mused. "Only take, and eat. Those words have been spoken before."

"No Garrosh!" Rosalind cried, drawing Val'anyr. "Remember the fate of your father!"

"I remember." Garrosh cast the brain upon the ground, and stomped on it, splattering the floor with ichor. "And you must all remember this day. Once more, a Hellscream has freed the world from bondage. For the Horde!"

A few of the orcs and Fi'ra raised a ragged cheer, but no one felt much like celebrating. They made their way back up the stairs to Freya's garden, where they collapsed, exhausted. They had been gone only a short time, and it was not yet noon, but Ron fell into a deep sleep.

Some hours later, Ron awoke to relieve himself. After coming out from behind a tree, he found Midna and Rosalind sitting by a pool, talking quietly. He walked over, sitting down on a stump.

"Those visions we saw," he said. "What do you think they meant? I saw strange things there. Meself, but older, and Harry and Hermione. That sword Harry had...it looks like yours, Midna."

The draenei touched the cloth her blade was once more wrapped in. "This is...one of the High Blades. Forged by the Dragon Aspects and gifted to the elves, it has long opposed evil. First the Burning Legion, and then the Scourge. There are others, Quel'Serrar is one such."

Ron accepted this with a nod. "Is that why you hunt dragons with it?"

"Part of it, yes," Midna agreed.

"Alright. But what about you, Rosalind. You're a demon. How would a human turn into a demoness herself? I saw my friend Hermione, and she looked an awful lot like you."

Rosalind shifted uncomfortably. "There are...rituals. They require the consumption of souls, and partaking of demon blood. Your friend could do such."

"Aye. And that sounds like the sort of thing Hermione would try," Ron mused. "I suppose I'd best warn her about that. Or maybe not. Might sound like a good idea to her."

Rosalind licked her lips, her fangs jutting out. "Perhaps...perhaps she just needs a friend. People do odd things when they are lonely and isolated. She may turn away from the darkness if she is shown another path."

Ron grunted and didn't say anything. He had been anything but friendly at their last meeting. After a short time, he stood and wandered away, trying to think. As he walked through the garden, lost in thought, Ron nearly jumped out of his skin when a voice spoke to him.

"You seem restless, Bane of Loken. What troubles you?"

Ron looked up, shocked to see Freya kneeling in the soul, tending for several saplings. She smiled kindly at him, her face gentle despite the fact that it was nearly bigger than Ron was.

"Just thinking," Ron admitted. "I was sent here to put the sleeper back to sleep. I think that was to kill Yogg Saron."

Ron waited for the whispers to start again, but nothing happened. He breathed a sigh of relief. Perhaps the dark god was dead. "And also to find the hidden king. I suppose that was Muradin, but, well, I don't know what I've accomplished."

"The hidden king," Freya mused. She dusted off her hands and leaned towards Ron, a wrinkle creasing her stone brow. "Perhaps that does mean young Stormheart, though he is only a regent. But it could also refer to the Prime Designate."

"The Prime Designate?" Ron asked, confused.

Freya nodded. "The Broken Throne. Once, that was where my brother Odyn sat, the father of Thorim and Loken. But he has been lost to us for an age."

Ron blinked. "Odyn? He was some sort of king?"

"He was our leader," Freya agreed. "And he called himself the King of The Valarjar. When the Titans empowered the Dragon Aspects to guard Azeroth, he took it as a personal insult. He left, along with many of the Titan's most powerful constructs, and his mantel fell to Loken. Loken told us that Odyn had fallen to madness not long ago, and that he and Helya had sealed away Odyn in his halls in a distant land."

"The Hidden King," Ron mused. "Perhaps he knows of a way to get me home. Tell me, do the Titans know of other worlds?"

Freya laughed. "Of course! It is the Titans who finished the work left undone by the Creator. They sowed life throughout the universe, ordering worlds and locking away the Old Gods and their void minions."

"Have you ever heard of a world called Earth?" Ron asked eagerly.

Freya frowned, then shrugged. "I was created here, on Azeroth. Though I know of other worlds, I have never visited them. But I am not as old nor as wise as Odyn was. He would know, if he is still alive. The only others who would know are long dead, or driven to madness."

"Thank you, Freya," Ron said excitedly. "I have to talk to Brann about this."

Ron found Brann studying an ancient titan script, muttering to himself as he transcribed it into a journal.

"Brann, do you know of the watcher known as Odyn?" Ron asked eagerly.

"Aye, I've seen mention o' him in the Disks of Norgannon and other places lad," Brann said, looking up from work.

Ron grinned. "Where could I find him?"

"Now that I don't know," Brann admitted. "I suppose I could find out though. Why?"

"Because I think he may be the key to me finding my way home," Ron said.

Brann's eyes lit up with interest. "A path to other worlds...Aye lad, I'll look into it. But I must warn ye, it may take years for me to figure out his location. I've crossed the world investigating Titan ruins. Ulduar is a treasure trove, but even the Watchers don't seem to know where their lost leader is."

"I've waited this long. I can wait a wee bit longer. Besides, I still need to figure out who else is here," Ron said. And in the back of his mind, he remember the visions he had seen. He couldn't let them come to pass, even if he didn't understand them yet.

 _Authors Note:_

 _And so the dark god dreams once again. The next arc, Ginny Weasley and the Lions of Stormwind, won't start for a while as I'm away from the internet for 10 days._


	22. Taming Lions I

If anyone had ever found out that Ginny enjoyed her new life, she would have slit their throat and dumped the body in the canal district to be eaten by the crocodiles that were rumored to live there. To anyone that would listen, Ginny would have told them that her life was dull and boring, except for the occasional mission where she got to go assassinate someone or do more recruitment from the old Defias Brotherhood. True, she'd only really assassinated one person so far, but she'd tagged along on a few missions with Elling and Elaine and they said she was certain to get more kills.

Really though, Ginny had come to love her routine. She got up early in the morning with Elaine to make breakfast, usually going to the market to buy some bread and meat for the day. The family would sit down together for a pleasant meal, after which Ginny would mind the shop or help Ben with the cheesemaking. It was hard work, often involving smoking or mixing in large batches of renin. Ben had to handle the heaviest lifting, but Ginny was strong and wiry and didn't mind the hard work. She enjoyed talking and laughing with Ben, and despite the front she put up, loved the mothering that Elaine gave her.

Then it was time for a midday meal, usually bread from the morning with cheese and perhaps some fruit. Often in the afternoon Elaine would send Ginny out to the market to sell small cheeses from a cart. She would head out to the main square where she would hawk her wares, shouting along with the rest of the tradesmen. Ginny had also become very adept at spotting and stopping thieves. After she'd stuck a knife in the leg of one particularly bold thief who'd tried to lift her purse, Ginny got a reputation with the other merchants as being the one to call if there were no guards around and someone had lifted your merchandise.

Ginny was bit gentler with the orphans and beggars, distributing scraps of cheese left over at the end of the day and occasionally handing a copper or two to the beggars. In turn, they provided Ginny with information on the various goings on in the city, a useful network of her very own spies that had Elling and Elaine very proud of her. Ginny would have died before she admitted it, but she treasured their praise and encouragement, and built up her spy network daily.

Then it was time for family dinner. They would sit around the table, sharing the small events of their day and funny stories about customers. Occasionally, when no one else was around, they'd discuss past missions in low voices, and tell stories about the amusing ways they'd killed people. Elaine had roared with laughter when Ginny told the story of the time she'd literally handed Harris his balls, even demonstrating her technique with a bunch of grapes. Ben and Elling had turned a bit green, but even they'd chuckled at the end of the story.

After dinner Ginny had a few free hours, and it was in this time she got to visit her friends. She'd gotten close with three girls who were studying to be mages, Janey, Suzanne, and Lisian. They were all about the same age, and spent long hours complaining about their work, gossiping about the goings in the city, and of course, talking about boys.

"I'm telling you, if we use an energy crux to stabilize the anchor thread it will work," Janey said as the four girls sat in the park. The moon was rising, but the air was still warm and Ginny had brought a shawl to wrap herself in.

"Are you three still going on about that?" Ginny laughed. "I'm telling you, a love potion's just not that hard to make. You're over complicating things."

"A lust potion isn't that hard to make," Suzanne sniffed. "But a potion that inspiries true love would be far harder."

"If you say so," Ginny said with a shrug. "But who would you even use it on? You're not still pining after Revin, are you?"

"Oh no, we've found someone much better," Lisian giggled. "The Prince: Anduin Wrynn."

"He's got amazing hair," Suzanne sighed. "And he's training to be a priest too!"

"And just think, if you married him you'd get to be a princess and have a hundred dresses and servants everywhere," Janey agreed.

"Come on Gin, you have to have seen him," Suzanne pressed. "You think he's handsome, don't you?"

Ginny turned as red as her hair, thinking of the time she'd mooned the Prince of Stormwind and offered him a taste of even more. Her friends all started giggling, and before she knew, Ginny was as well. "He does have a nice bum," Ginny admitted. "But he's a prince. Why would he ever be interested in any of us?"

"That's what the potion is for, silly!" her friends chorused.

Later that night, Ginny was walking home along the canals alone, as she typically did. While Stormwind was a well patrolled city, most young girls her age would never have been allowed to walk along darkened streets alone at night. Most girls, however, didn't carry half a dozen knives, two daggers and a loaded pistol on their person at all times.

Ginny was crossing over the bridge from the Park to the Trade Quarter, when she sensed someone after her. She loosened one of the knives in her sleeves and looked in the window of a shop to see if there was anyone behind her. Seeing nothing, she continued on, turning down an alleyway.

She swore under her breath, then bent to tie her shoe. When she straightened, she aimed her pistol at a patch of shadows. "I know you're bloody well there, so either show yourself or get a belly full of lead."

"Not bad," the voice of Mathias Shaw said as he stepped out into the light. "You noticed me as soon as you crossed the bridge. I'd thought you wouldn't pick out I was waiting under there for you."

"What are you doing hiding under bridges? You half troll or something?" Ginny demanded.

Shaw frowned. "What do trolls have to do with bridges, girl?"

"Nothing," Ginny sighed, sticking her gun back into her boot. She kept her knife in her palm though. "Something I heard growing up."

"Huh. Well, walk with me girl. Tell me, how have the Trias' been treating you?"

Ginny told Shaw about her work with the remnants of the Brotherhood in Elwynn Forest. She'd had to kill a couple of ruffians who'd refused to come in, and even assassinated Lord Gregor Lescovar when he had refused to give up his plots against the crown. "Bastard had just been using the Brotherhood to further his own ambitions. He was the one who sold the King out to the Horde. No proof that would hold up in court though," Ginny stated.

"Yes, I approved the job myself," Shaw said dryly. "Did the eulogy too. Had everyone in tears."

Ginny snorted. She'd heard about that one, and she'd had to stifle a laugh when she'd read the quotes in the newspaper.

"But how are you really doing?" Shaw said, stopping and blocking Ginny's path. "When I first met you, you were raw talent, but in many ways a wreck. How are you now?"

For a moment Ginny hesitated, looking around and licking her lips. She leaned in close to Shaw. "I'll tell you, but I swear, if you ever breathe a word of this to anyone, I'll slit your throat so fast people will think it was natural, savvy?"

Shaw nodded, raising a single eyebrow at Ginny.

"I love it," Ginny admitted. "It's like having a real life again. Like having a home. I thought all that was gone forever, but…" Ginny shivered, clutching her shawl about her shoulders. "But I think they do love me, and I love them back, a little."

"Good. I need a capable agent, not a murderous maniac," Shaw said. He patted Ginny's shoulder and smiled. "Speaking of which, I have a job for you…"

A week later, Ginny was sitting on the back of the cheese wagon with Ben as Elling and Elaine drove it through the streets of Stormwind.

"Cheer up Red, at least it's not like the last time you were a guest of the palace," Ben teased. "This time I don't even think they've built a gallows."

"Oh ha ha you lummox," Ginny growsed. "You're going to be right there with me serving the nobles tidbits and smiling and bowing."

"Ah, it's not so bad." Ben winked at Ginny. "If they really get on your nerves, just make something up in your report and you get to knife them later."

"No pleasure assassinations you two," Elling growled, glaring at his son and student with his one eye. "We're on the clock now."

"Ginny's just sad she won't get to see her boyfriend," Ben mocked, poking her in the ribs. "She's sweet on the prince, don't you know."

"I am not!" Ginny snapped, but she had to look away to hide her flush. Anduin was a prince, and what girl wouldn't have at least a bit of a crush on a man as handsome and noble as Anduin Wrynn? Once Ginny had dreamed of growing up to marry Harry Potter, but those dreams had died a hard death in a pool of blood at the bottom of a rowboat when she was only 11. She was nearly fourteen now, and a woman who had seen the world. She no longer entertained any such folly.

"Just keep your mind on the mission, deary," Elaine said without turning around in her seat. "You can ogle the prince, just be discreet about it. A young woman needs her fancies."

Ben made retching sounds, and Ginny slapped at him. Sometimes, it really was like being back home with her brothers. Ben reminded her a great deal of William and Charlie, though he was also a lot deadlier than either even if he had no real magic.

The wagon went to a service entrance of the castle, where Elling showed the parchments they'd been given to one of the guards. Ginny helped unload the food before changing into her best dress she wore to the Cathedral on feasts days. Ginny hadn't been religious back on Earth, but considering that she'd seen the power of the Holy Light she'd have to be an idiot not to take that seriously. She said her prayers now, though admittedly she prayed to the Raven Lord more than the Light.

Once in her dress, Ginny went to the serving hall bearing a platter of cheeses, her best smile plastered on her face. The Royal Victory Feast wouldn't start for some time, but if the nobles came early it wouldn't do for them to be hungry. She was to circulate through the banquet hall with her tray, bobbing curtsies and overhearing whatever gossip she could. Shaw had word that there were members of the Cult of the Damned that were trying to infiltrate the nobility. If they tried anything at the feast, he wanted his people there to put a swift end to it.

Ben was with Ginny, both of them waiting at the edges of the empty hall as nobles began to trickle in. These were mostly landed gentry and minor nobility, people who were important enough to merit invitation but low ranking enough that they couldn't get away with being fashionably late. Ginny circled through the hall and then out the gardens, not overheating anything more interesting that which nobles were sleeping with each other or who had made or lost a fortune in the war.

She was heading back to the kitchen through the gardens to refill her tray when she heard a loud wolf whistle.

"Hey, hey, hey, would you get a load of that? Damn, how the mighty have fallen, eh Jonsey? Still, she don't look bad in that dress, for a human."

Ginny whirled to find Helix Gearbreaker in a snappy naval uniform standing with Ripsnarl in his human form. Ripsnarl doffed his cap and held it over his heart, assuming a posture of mourning.

"Hey, what you doin' that for?" Helix demanded, elbowing Ripsnarl again. "You should be teasin' Red too."

"I'm mourning your loss," Ripsnarl said somberly. "She's definitely going to kill you for that."

Helix turned back to Ginny then fell flat on his behind, going cross eyed as he stared at the dagger she was holding right at the tip of his nose. "Hey now, no need for that! We're heroes now, see?" Helix pointed to a bit of ribbon and metal on his uniform. "Killed us a real Scourge baddy."

Ginny stared down at Helix silently, until he swallowed and held up a shaky hand. "Okay, okay, I apologize. Sheesh. Haven't lost that temper of yours eh?"

"Not in the slightest." Grinning wickedly, Ginny slipped the dagger back up her sleeve. "So what are you two sea dogs doing at this celebration, eh?"

"The Captain insisted," Ripsnarl growled, tugging at the collar of his dress uniform. "Said she needed someone to back her up in the Bourgois den of corruption."

"She's here?" Ginny asked, looking around. "I'd love to talk to her."

"Probably hiding somewhere," Helix said with a shrug. "If we see her we'll let her know youse is here and all. What are you up to anyway, Red? I mean ma'am!"

"I'm here for a mark. Someone spilled the beans that the Cult of the Damned has corrupted some of the nobility. Can I count on you two to back me up if things go south, or have you two gone soft?" Ginny demanded

Ripsnarl grinned wickedly, cracking his knuckles. "I don't like this shirt all that much. And it's a full moon tonight. Always makes me thirsty for blood."

Helix held out a fistfull of what looked like small rocks. "See these? You tell me what you want to go boom, and I will make sure it ain't nothin' but dust sweetheart. Got a couple more fun things hidden way. Guards weren't too keen to feel up a goblin, if ya know what I mean."

"Good. Keep a weather eye out and your ears open. If you see anything, tell me or the tall lad with the cheeses in the main hall. That's Ben, and he's wicked with a cheese knife."

Ginny headed to the kitchens, lost in reminiscence of days gone by. Sure, when she'd been with the Defiant she'd lived in daily terror of her life and had to fight tooth and nail to survive, but she'd really been living to the fullest each day, the wind at her back, the sea beneath her and-

Ginny found herself dragged down a corridor and pressed up against the wall in a stranglehold. She tried to loosen one of her knives to slit her attackers throat but her arms were pinned to her sides and-

"Oh Red it's really you! Little sister, what have they done to my First Mate!"

Ginny gasped for breath as Vanessa stepped back and grinned down at her, the Defias Queen's grey eyes sparkling. "They called you in for the party too huh? Why didn't anyone tell me! I wouldn't be skulking around the kitchens hiding from the nobles if I knew my favorite Officer was around here!"

Ginny smiled and held up the empty tray. "Actually I'm working the party. If you're hungry, I can get you some cheeses."

"Are you serious? They're wasting you in a blasted cheese shop when you were the best knife fighter I had?" Vanessa demanded.

"Actually I'm here to sniff out any trouble and put an end to it," Ginny replied, spinning a knife through her fingers.

"Well, that's more like it. But it will hardly do," Vanessa muttered. She eyed Ginny thoughtfully. "You've gotten a lot taller, girl. Same height as me now. You'll be an inch or two above me before your done."

"The reach helps when I'm fighting," Ginny said casually, sliding her knife back up her sleeve. "Listen, after the party we'll have to catch up, but I've got to get back to work before-"

"Oh no you don't. I've got first dibs on you girl. And no sister of mine is going to be a slave of the Bourgois. We're seizing the means of production tonight, you and me!"

Before Ginny knew what was happening, Vanessa had tossed Ginny's cheese tray aside and had hauled Ginny up to the upper levels of the palace where visiting dignitaries stayed. Vanessa strode straight to a carved oaken door guarded by two sailors, who saluted the women as they went inside.

"Not too shabby, eh? Beats the prison cells they dumped us in last time," Vanessa said, tossing her feathered bicorn hat onto a plush four poster bed and gesturing to the room.

Ginny's eyes widened, whistling softly as she looked around. "Not bad at all. A bedroom and a sitting room, looks like. Your own makeup stand and everything." She peered up at Vanessa and smirked. "You're even wearing a bit of it. You do it yourself?"

"No," Vanessa admitted, blushing. "I had one of the maids help me. I just...I want to look proper in front of all these noble dogs. Show them I'm better than every last one of them." Stalking over to a wardrobe, Vanessa threw it open and began tossing dresses onto the floor. "Now me, I can get away with wearing trousers cause those are part of a captain's uniform, see. But you ain't got a uniform, so we'll make do with one of these."

Ginny held up one of the dresses, her mouth forming a small O as she put it to her chest. Her best dress was made of wool, and was blue with a bit of embroidery on the bodice and down the sleeves. These dresses, however, were all silk and mageweave, and simmered and danced in the light. They had wonderful golden thread all over them, showing all manner of flowers, birds, and flowing waves. Ginny looked at herself in the mirror, clutching the red and gold dress to her chest, and imagined what she'd look like in it. She flushed, hastily tossing it onto the bed next to Vanessa's hat.

"Captain, really, I can't. I've got a job to do, I can't just strut about the party with you," Ginny protested.

"Nonsense, you can spy just as well as a noble guest as a serving girl," Vanessa proclaimed, holding up a royal blue gown with golden lions embroidered on the chest and silver swords around the neckline. "Yes, this will do nicely. Here, get changed. If you need some petticoats I've got extra lying around. Never even worn most of them."

At the site of the beautiful dress, Ginny's resolve crumbled. She shucked off her own clothes, taking the petticoats and corset that Vanessa gave her and putting them on with her aide. When she was done Vanessa called for a made to come in and quickly do Ginny's hair and makeup, and put a necklace of wrought silver set with a large emerald around her neck, and a silver bracelet worked with moonstones on her wrist.

"Now you look a proper noble lady," Vanessa said approvingly, nodding in satisfaction. She tugged at Ginny's bust, frowning. "You haven't quite filled out yet though, but you've time for that still I suppose. Here, let's just stuff your bust with a few hankies. There! Perfection."

Ginny flushed, looking awkwardly at Vanessa's frame. She wasn't exactly a milk cow, but she was twenty and her figure was far more mature. It made Ginny a tad envious that her adoptive sister would have filled out the dress nicely, but she didn't dwell on it. Besides, her uniform actually rather hid Vanessa's womanly curves, which was probably intentional.

"Right, let's get down to the party," Vanessa declared, opening the door. "It's supposed to start now, so most of the important people probably haven't even arrived anyway."

Ginny made her way down the stairs, feeling a bit awkward in the high heels she was wearing at first. She was used to sturdy shoes or padded slippers, but the natural grace she'd learned balancing atop the mast of a swaying ship quickly helped her step lightly and naturally even in the new shoes.

The hall had filled up quite a bit, and musicians had begun playing a gentle tune as the gathered guests chatted amongst themselves. Ginny caught sight of Ben, who was staring at her opened mouthed, and waved guilty at him. "That's Ben, he's sort of my big brother now," Ginny told Vanessa.

"Well, then I have to meet him," Vanessa declared, and strode purposefully over. "You, boy, some cheese for myself and the Lady Ginevra."

Ben's jaw clacked shut, and he bowed, offering up the plate of cheese. "Of course, m'lady. Made these myself with the help of my cousin. She's around here somewhere, but the little scamps always running off and getting into trouble."

"Oh hush you," Ginny muttered. She picked up cracker with a lump on it and offered it to Vanessa. "Here, this is my favorite, tesyn. It's a soft goats milk cheese, Ben and I made it last week and this batch is really tasty."

Vanessa bit into it and smacked her lips. "Not bad Red, not bad at all." Then she narrowed her eyes at Ben. "You've been looking after my kid sister properly, haven't you you Bourgeois scum?"

"I've taught her how to dance through shadows and knife a man while he still thinks your his friend," Ben said smoothly. "Though I must admit, I didn't expect to see you here, Defias. You taught little Gin well. Just polishing off the rough edges."

"Good enough. She seems like she's eating decently at least, and she's had a readier smile and laugh then I remember. I suppose I won't have to kill you tonight, cheesemaker. Come along Red, wouldn't do for us to hobnob with the help."

Ginny quickly waved goodbye to Ben as Vanessa dragged her away, and he winked at her and mouthed, "have fun."

To Ginny's surprise, she did have fun. It was hilarious to see Helix's double take when he saw her in the captain's dress, and Ripsnarl burst out laughing when the goblin dropped his fancy drink on the floor and splashed it all over his trousers. She and Vanessa circulated through the party, listening in to a number of conversations and poking fun at the nobles. Several of the older and dustier nobility stared down their noses at them, but more disturbing were the old men and fat ugly youths who leered at the both of them.

"I'd like to get one into a quiet bedroom," Vanessa whispered to Ginny, pointing to a baby faced man with a sagging gut who was being particularly blatant with his stares.

"Why, so you could easily dispose of the body?" Ginny whispered. The two girls giggled and waved to the man, who waggled his eyebrows and smiled at them, thinking they were paying him a compliment.

There were other races at the party too of course, mostly dwarves with a few elves and a scattering of gnomes, and a simple pair of draenei who kept mostly to themselves. They did approach Ginny and Vanessa, and thanked the captain in serious tones.

"Your help in integrating our forces into the Alliance command in Northrend is most appreciated, Captain Vancleef," the male stated soberly.

His female companion nodded. "The Light bless you, captain. I pray that we can aide our new friends in our battle against the Scourge, to make a better future for all our peoples."

Vanessa bowed slightly. "You are most welcome. To be frank, they pulled my bacon out of the fire when that vampire tried to take me and my men down. If it weren't for Harbinger Vurenn and his men, I'd be dead. It was natural to suggest he take command with the other senior officers dead."

"We can accomplish much when we walk in harmony with our brothers in the Light," the male stated. He bowed deeply. "Archenon poros, Captain Vancleef. And blessings upon you as well, young lady."

The two draenei left, and Ginny snorted with laughter. "Bit full of themselves, aren't they?"

"No," Vanessa said thoughtfully. "I don't think so. I think they're just genuinely good people with no false face at all. It comes off as pretentious to us because we can't imagine ever being that kind and pure with anyone. But I think they really meant what they just said to us. No artifice about it."

Ginny shrugged awkwardly, and they went back to poking fun at nobles. Then it was time for the feast, and Ginny was surprised to find herself and Vanessa seated at a place of honor at the right hand of the king near the head of the table.

Varian Wrynn made his appearance, and the entire hall stood, bowing to the king. For once Varian was not dressed in armor, but in a formal tunic emblazoned with the lion of Stormwind and with his personal crest of a howling wolf. His hair was loose about his shoulders, and the Crown of the High King rested upon his brow. He was still armed however, his sword resting in a gilded scabbard at his side, which he rested his hand upon and gripped with a firm hand.

Behind his father came Anduin in a similar suit, a silver circlet on his head. Ginny flushed when he noticed her and smiled, ducking her head down and trying to sink into the floor.

"Honored guests, we are gathered this night to celebrate the hard fought victories our men and women in the field have won for us with their blood and sacrifice. Though we are here now in comfort, let us take a moment of silence to recall those who have fallen in battle, and can no longer partake of this meal with us."

Varian bowed his head, as did the rest of the company. Ginny kept one eye open, watching the king and guests. She saw Varian crack one eye open to scan the room as well, and he grimaced as if he tasted something bad. After a long minute, the king straighten. "Hail the victorious dead!" he shouted, and poured out a cup of fine wine onto the floor.

The nobles made polite mutters, but Vanessa and Ginny stood straight along with several of the officers and held up their cups as well. "Hail!"

Ginny poured out her drink, and took stock of who seemed reluctant to waste whatever fine vintage was in their cups, or winced when the wine splashed onto the fine tablecloth or their clothing.

"Thank you," the king said, inclining his head. "We have a long road yet to walk, but victory is within sight. Please, be seated, and enjoy the feast."

Once the king sank into his chair, Ginny eagerly sat and began to eat. She made sure to take only a little of everything, but there was so much food on display she was soon full.

"Look at that," Vanessa muttered, nudging Ginny's shoulder. "See what their highnesses are supping on?"

Ginny looked, frowning. She saw the same sumptuous dishes on Varian and Anduin's plates that were on her own. "Yeah, so?"

"Watch," Vanessa instructed. "It's interesting."

Ginny did watch, and to her shock, she saw neither the king nor the prince take a single bite of the various meats, soups, and other exotic dishes that had been prepared. Nor did they drink wine. When they filled their cups, it was with simple water. They ate only a little bread and salt, though they talked merrily enough with those close to them.

"Why aren't they eating like the rest of us?" Ginny whispered to Vanessa.

Her companion shrugged. "I don't know. Fear of poison maybe? I think that's worth investigating later."

After the feast, there was music and dancing in the hall. Varian and Anduin both danced in the men's line for the first formal dance, but did not take partners, instead vanishing.

"Let's track them down," Vanessa whispered, a gleam in her eye. "See what that kill stealer and prince healbot are up to."

"Surely half the guests are going to want to corner the king and talk his ear off about something or other," Ginny protested.

Vanessa shrugged. "Yeah, but they all think like nobles. I bet I know where to find the old bastard and his spawn."


	23. Taming Lions II

Vanessa led Ginny through the halls away from the music and dancing, past the gardens with their tinkling fountains and servants with trays of desserts and drinks to an older, rougher portion of the castle. This section had more guards, and it's stone walls were thick and heavy, far less for decoration and entirely for defense, with arrow slits and no windows. The guards saluted Vanessa when they saw her captain's uniform, but eyed Ginny suspiciously in her regal gown.

"She's with me. SI:7," Vanessa told a knight-captain who hesitated before passing them on.

Ginny produced her gun from her bodice, and grinned at the knight-captain.

"I'll be needing that, miss," he said, holding out his hand. "The kings in here. No weapons."

"You going to search me, lover boy?" Ginny asked, though the man had a face like a beaten anvil and enough grey hair to be her grandfather.

"No, but I will trust to the honor of the lady captain here," he said determinedly. He gestured with his hand, and Ginny placed two knives, the gun, and a dagger in it.

"Arthas' frozen balls she must be SI:7," one of the guards muttered.

The knight-captain glared at the guard, who muttered an apology, then saluted Ginny and Vanessa. "Go on in, captain, agent."

"You didn't even give him half of what you have," Vanessa whispered as they walked down the corridor.

Ginny shrugged. "I didn't want to man to feel like I was insulting him, but I wasn't about to go about unarmed. A girl has to be careful you know."

They came to a large room with a map of azeroth built into a large round table, rotated so that Northrend was at the center. Over the table leaned the king, Anduin standing at his side, a worried expression on his face.

"We're wasting time here, Fardale. Bah! Those fools in there think of nothing but gorging themselves and their petty politics! If it wasn't for the fact that they control half my tax revenue, I'd strap the whole lot of them in armor and send them off to the front lines!" Varian slammed his fist onto his leg, glaring at the map.

"Moral is important, father," Anduin said gently. "It does your people good to see their king attend a feast. It tells them all is right with the king, and that they can rest easy."

"I would rest easier on the hard earth in a tent with Bolvar at the Wrathgate," Varian grumbled, but he seemed slightly mollified at his son's response.

"Sire, you can do nothing more tonight. Please, go enjoy yourself. I will send word immediately if any messages from the front arrive," Fardale promised. He had dark circles under his eyes, and was sitting wearily in a chair next to the map, his warhammer propped up against the back of his seat.

"I saw what you were doing," Vanessa stated, slowly sliding forward in a cat like walk she used when she was stalking the most dangerous of prey. Ginny noticed she put an extra bit of...something into that walk. It certainly caught the eye of every man in the room, though how Vanessa could manage that with a bulky uniform coat and hobnailed boots Ginny didn't know.

"Captain Vancleef," Varian said, straightening and raising an inquisitive eyebrow. "I thought you'd be at the party. You deploy back to the front soon, don't you? You should be resting and enjoying yourself."

"I sail in two days time," Vanessa agreed. She sidled up to the map next to Varian, so much so that Anduin had to step to the side. She seemed to accidentally brush her hip against Varians leg, then inched back ever so slightly to lean over the map. "But you were eating nothing but bread and hard rations at the feast. Don't think I didn't notice. What's the point of even being at a party if you don't have fun?"

Ginny stepped into the room, coming over next to Anduin to look at the map. She frowned at the troop deployments. Everything seemed to be going well, though mostly she was just counting number of pieces as she didn't know what they meant.

"Father only eats the same meals the men at the front do while our soldiers fight in the field," Anduin supplied.

"Oh really?" Vanessa seemed genuinely surprised at that, and pursed her lips, studying Varian. "Now that's interesting. You're noble, right? Most nobles have no problem getting fat while the poor men die for their right to do so."

"They have forgotten what it means to be a leader," Varian growled. He sighed and shook his head. "I should not judge them so. They are not the king: the standard they are held to is not so high. Still, too many of them do not see we are in a fight for our very existence. Should the Scourge triumph, all life on Azeroth will be obliterated."

Ginny looked over at Anduin, who had his head down, seeming to gaze intently at the map. "What about you?" she asked. "Do you want to be out there fighting as well?"

"I'm not a great warrior like father," Anduin temporized. He looked at Ginny and blushed, turning back to the map. "But...I do wish I were with High Lord Bolvar. I've studied the ways of the Light! Ever were I not on the front lines, I could heal our wounded and tend to the troops. But father won't let me go."

"He's smart to do that," Ginny said, tapping one of the pieces on the board. "A footman or cut throat like me? The kingdom can afford to lose those. But a prince? A king? Those pieces are too valuable to risk."

"So father's advisors tell him, and he informs me," Anduin said dryly. "But I suppose you've been having great fun yourself, slaying Scourge and fighting the good fight. I'm a bit jealous, to be honest."

Now it was Ginny's turn to blush and look aside. "Actually, I haven't been on the front lines either."

"Oh?" Anduin cocked his head to one side, frowning at Ginny, when his father interrupted them.

"Fine, fine, you are right, Fardale, Vancleef. I will return to the party and at least pretend to enjoy myself. Come, Anduin. I have hidden myself away long enough."

"Please your majesty, call me Vanessa in private," Vanessa teased. "And do try to smile. After all, you are returning to the party with a beautiful woman."

Varian barked a laugh, and together the four left the room, heading back towards the banquet hall. Ginny retrieved her weapons from the knight-captain, causing Anduin to gape at where she slipped them in her clothes, and Varian to nod approvingly. "I see Shaw has been seeing to your training well, young Miss Weasley. I take it you know how to use that armory you have concealed in your bodice?"

"Let's just hope you don't have cause to find out tonight, your majesty," Ginny said, winking at the king.

He chuckled and nodded. "Shaw must be taking those rumors of cultists seriously. I cannot stand such skulking about in the shadows. Better to face one's foes openly with sword in hand."

"It's dead useful if you don't mind winning," Vanessa sniffed. "Only an idiot charges into every situation like a raging bull or a rabid wolf."

Ginny slowed her walk, letting Vanessa and the king pull ahead, but Anduin fell back with her. "I'm glad you're here tonight, Lady Ginevra. Too often at these parties I have no one interesting to talk to at all," Anduin said. "Tell me, what sorts of adventures have you been having? Were you back in the South Seas again?"

"Not really," Ginny said slowly. "I've, um, been working with Mathias Shaw."

"Ah." Anduin nodded knowingly. "Master Shaw's work is vital to the kingdom."

"What about you?" Ginny blurted. "You're a prince, surely you get to do interesting things."

"Only if you think taking lessons with my tutors is interesting. I suppose I do get to practice the sword with father on occasion, but I am not very good at it," Anduin said. "Really, I am much better at studying the Light. As you saw, I have something of an inclination towards healing spells."

"You were pretty decent," Ginny allowed as the entered into the great banquet hall. "You saved my life and a lot of lives of my crew." Thinking of that day made Ginny suddenly blush at her antics. "I, um, am grateful that you didn't have me executed for being a pirate and all."

"You were a hero," Anduin said firmly. "Stormwind rewards those of her children who fight for her."

"Even if I am bloody adopted," Ginny muttered. She glanced around, and saw a great many eyes staring at her and Anduin, and at the king and Vanessa, who were still talking with one another. She was close enough to hear several ladies mutter about "those harlots" and "taking advantage of his majesty."

Varian and Vanessa seemed to hear the mutters as well, though Anduin was oblivious, happily getting drinks for Ginny and himself (milk, she noted with amusement).

With a sigh, Vanessa nodded her head to the King. "Your majesty, I won't take up more of your time. I wouldn't want people to think you less than you are."

Varian glared around the room, and suddenly motioned to the musicians. "You there! Do you know 'The Lover I Left Ashore?'"

The musician, who was a stately looking dwarf with spectacles and a powdered wig holding a violin, started, stopping the gentle melody he'd been playing. "The sailor's ditty, your majesty? That's a song for a tavern, hardly fitting for-"

"It is a noble tune, one I have sung with the brave men and women of the Alliance as they marched to war. Play it know, in honor of those who serve us."

The dwarf blinked and looked to his companions, who shrugged and nodded. The dwarf bowed his head, then suddenly began fiddling out a lively tune.

"My lady," Varian said, bowin to Vanessa. "Will you help me honor our troops in the field?"

Vanessa grinned wickedly and put her hand in the kings. "Of course, your majesty."

And then the two were off, whirling about alone on the dance floor. Ginny laughed at the display, until she felt a tap on her shoulder. She turn to find a red faced Anduin bowing and peering up at her. "Would you care to dance, my lady?"

Ginny glanced at Ben, who gave her a fist pump and a wide grin. She put her hand in Anduin's. "For the honor of our troops."

Anduin took her out on the dance floor, but soon Ginny had to take the lead, using her natural grace to make up for Anduin's awkwardness. It was clearly he had not heard the song before, and didn't seem to know how to dance a jig at all. The tune was one familiar to Ginny, as the crew had pipped it more than once during free hours, and she'd even danced with Ripsnarl and Vanessa a few times. She soon was guiding Anduin through the steps, and they were both laughing and grinning.

Before long, several men and women in sailors uniforms or those of low ranking army officers had dragged partners out onto the floor and were whirling about with them, laughing and smiling. Ginny was shocked to see the two draenei making a go of it, though they were horribly off beat and clearly didn't know the steps. Still, they were laughing and smiling along with the others, and didn't seem to mind that they were making fools of themselves in the eyes of the stodgy nobles. Come to think of it, Ginny realized she didn't much mind either.

What would Suzanne and the others think to see me now? she wondered.

After the first song, the soldiers and officers shouted for other songs, "My Feet Walked Away," "It Isn't a March Until it Rains," "Three Shots Across Her Bows," and most egregiously, "The Brothel at Booty Bay." Helix was the one who asked for that one, which made Vanessa whirl and glare at the little green man, but he was far to deep into his cups to care, leaning on a pink haired gnomish lass and laughing hysterically.

The band continued to play for an hour, though many of the nobles left once it became clear that Varian was dancing only with various female soldiers, and not with the cluster of noble ladies who had stood at the sidelines fanning themselves. Vanessa danced with several admirals, generals, and knights, while Ginny ended up only dancing with Anduin, since they were the only two youths out on the floor.

After an hour of dancing, Varian shouted for drink, saying he was thirsty. A servant ran over with a tray of wine, but the king pushed it away in disgust. "Soldiers of the Alliance, when you thirst, what do you drink?"

"RUM!" the sailors roared.

"BEER!" the soldiers shouted.

"WHISKEY YE DAFT HUMANS!" several dwarven fliers called.

"BRING US BEER, RUM, AND WHISKEY!" Varian bellowed, throwing his fist in the air. The soldiers cheered excitedly, and soon several kegs of rum and beer were hauled up from the kitchen, and large bottles of whiskey brought.

Ginny grabbed a couple of mugs of rum, pouring a bit of water into them to make rather strong grog, and shoved one at Anduin. "Drink up, it'll put hair on your chest!" she told the prince.

Anduin flushed. "I only drink watered wine, I'm only 15. It's not proper to-"

The prince fell silent as Ginny upended her mug, draining it in a single go. She grabbed Anduin's mug and emptied it as well, letting out a loud belch when she was through. The few remaining noble ladies who had been glaring at Ginny recoiled in horror, but Helix and Ripsnarl roared with laughter and passed Ginny two more mugs of grog.

Anduin looked at the mugs wide eyed as Ginny raised hers in a toast. He glanced at his father, and his jaw dropped.

Varian had his formal tabard off, and from somewhere had gotten a wolf pelt (probably from one of the Wildhammer fliers) that he'd draped over his shoulders. He was holding up an entire keg of beer, and had knocked the spigot off with his fist. The king was standing on the table, draining the keg as the soldiers cheered and chanted, "WOLF! WOLF! WOLF! WOLF!"

Anduin looked back at Ginny wide eyed, and she winked. "Bottoms up!"

"Bottoms...up…" Anduin echoed, and closed his eyes, taking a massive swallow of grog. He immediately gagged and started coughing, clutching at his throat.

Ginny fell back into a chair, laughing hysterically as a grinning woman in an admiral's uniform pounded the prince's back. "You'd best be careful, your majesty! Something like that will put hair on your chest and a beard on your chin!"

"It...it was good," Anduin croaked. "I'm certain it will put hair on my chest, Admiral Rogers."

"You hear that boys!" Ginny shouted, leaping up on her chair. "The Prince needs another round of grog!"

The sailors cheered excitedly and hurriedly passed Anduin another mug. The prince smiled weakly, but accepted the mug. This time, he took careful sips, though Ginny also noticed he was deliberately spilling quite a bit onto the floor.

Before long, the hall emptied of nobles, though the king seemed to hardly notice. He was singing rather bawdy drinking songs, leading the soldiers like a grand conductor and ordering the musicians to accompany them. Not to be outdone, the sailors produced a set of pipes from somewhere and began singing an even lewder tune, with Admiral Rogers up on the table directing them. Anduin seemed completely out of his depth, but when Ginny smiled at him, he shrugged and did his best to sing along.

Long after midnight, the party finally ran its course. Ginny had stopped drinking after her third cup of grog, and taken a bit of poison cure potion to prevent drunkenness. Despite the fact that he'd drank far less than her, Anduin was more than a little tipsy, and two servants came to help him back to his rooms. Varian had his arms around Rogers and Vanessa, grinning so widely his scar seemed ready to burst open. "This was a fine party! I don't know why I was so reluctant to have it in the first place!"

"It's because you chased off the damned nobles and just had fun," Vanessa giggled.

"Damned nobles, don't know how to just cut loose and live!" Rogers laughed.

Varian joined in, then let the two go. "I fear I must retire for the night. Duty calls in the morning. Stand fast, warriors of Stormwind. Know that in my heart, I am with you." He saluted, slamming his fist into his chest.

Vanessa and Rogers returned the salute, and Varian departed to his chambers, escorted by the royal guard.

"Well, that was interesting."

Ginny turned around to see Ben grinning down on her. "Hear any rumors? Find any cultists?"

"Um, no," Ginny admitted, blushing and looking down. "I got a little distracted."

"Ha! It's fine. Honestly you did a good job. Our primary mission is to protect the royal family, and you did an excellent job. Come on, let's get you back home."

"Wait for me, will you? Vanessa's hardly fit to stand. I'll take her back to her rooms and change back into my clothes. Hopefully my cover isn't completely blown now."

"Eh, Lady Ginevera looks a bit different from Gin the Cheese Maker. You'll be fine. I'll be with the wagon with mom and dad. And Ginny?"

"Hmm?"

Ben leaned down, putting a hand on her shoulder. "We can be your family too. This is your home too, now. Not just with Captain Vancleef, but here, in our home. Alright?"

Ginny struggled not to cry, and wrapped her arms around Ben. She sniffed and nodded. "Thanks, big brother. And if you ever breathe a word that I almost cried, you'll wake up dead, you hear?"

"You got it, little sister." Ben let Ginny go and walked off towards the service entrance.

Ginny turned to Vanessa and pulled her up from her chair, only to have to captain slap at her. "Oh lay off, I took a poison cure potion too, I'm not half as drunk as I acted."

"Oh?" Ginny said. "Well I've got to get my things anyway. Come one, it's late, and I have to open the store tomorrow."

"It's not late, it's bloody early!" Vanessa laughed as they walked towards her quarters.

"Hey, I got an old pair of trousers that might fit you," Vanessa said as Ginny was changing. "Try them on real quick."

Ginny took the pair of canvass trousers Vanessa tossed her and slipped into them. "They do fit. What, you outgrow them?"

"Nah. Just can't wear common sailor's garb no more," Vanessa said, her tone a bit mournful. She fingered the silk of her dress pants, and a small smile grew on her face. "I can't say as I mind too much. A girl does like to feel pretty once in a while."

"I know what you mean, I-" Ginny cut off, frowning. Outside, the full moon was setting as it was the wee hours of the mourning. Something had just moved across its face, and Ginny stepped out onto Vanessa's balcony.

"What is it?" Vanessa asked, pausing in her undressing. She shucked off her great coat and came to stand beside Ginny.

"I thought I saw something," Ginny muttered. She rubbed her eyes with closed fists. "I'm just tired. Seeing moon visions. I'd best be-"

Vanessa suddenly grabbed Ginny and flung her to the floor, drawing a dagger as she did so. "DRAGON!"

There was a rush of wings and a roar, then a sudden clang. Ginny pointed her pistol the figure in full plate that stood crouched on the balcony railing, their sword parrying a blow from Vanessa's dagger as their shield covered the rest of their body. Moonlight glinted off a silver lionshead of the intruder's helm, and the shield was embossed with the lion crest of Stormwind.

"There is no time!" the stranger panted. "You must warn the king and the prince! The castle is about to be attacked!"

"What?" Ginny said, sliding to her feet and shuffling to the side for a better shot. "The Cult of the Damned?"

Vanessa back stepped, drawing another dagger and assuming a fighting stance. "Who are you? What is the meaning of this?"

There was a gust of wind, and Ginny and Vanessa both jumped back as the figure in plate jumped down into the room as a giant bronze dragon swooped down on the balcony. Suddenly the dragon was gone, a gnome in a white robe with her hair in a single bun standing beside the stranger.

"We've got to act now!" the gnome shouted. "Ginny, Vanessa, they're coming to kill Anduin and Varian!"

The door crashed open and the two sailors from the Defiant came in, cutlasses drawn. "Captain, Red, what's-"

"Sound the alarm!" Vanessa barked. "Find the King and the Prince! The enemy is here!"

The sailor eyes widened, then they ran off shouting.

"Thank you," the stranger in plate said. "Quickly, we must-"

Ginny ran past the two strangers, ducking down to grab her dress and pulling out a pair of climbing claws. She started to shimmy up the side of the wall, scampering towards the royal quarters two floors up. There were shouts below, but she ignored them, intent on her climb. A moment later she heard Vanessa swearing and then the tink of Vanessa's own claws as she climbed back up after Ginny.

"You take the one on the left, I'll go for the right," Vanessa ordered. "I'm not sure which is which, but whoever you find protect them at all costs! He's the first damn noble I've ever respected and that prince might be worth something too!"

Ginny didn't answer, focusing on the climb. She hurried up to the window and lept into the room, her dagger drawn and her pistol panning about the room. She saw a figure behind a curtain by the light of a lamp and lowered her shoulder, ramming the other person into the wall.

To her surprise, Ginny found she'd pinned Anduin, who had been pulling on his night clothes.

"Lady Ginevera, what are you-"

"No time," Ginny snarled. She grabbed Anduin and dragged him towards the door. "I think the castle is-"

There was a burst of wings behind them, and Ginny turned to see creatures the size of small pigs swoop into the room on back like wings, white eyes glowing in the darkness. They shrieked and breathed out a noxious breath of sand, blasting Ginny's skin and blinding her momentarily.

"Begon!" Anduin raised his hand, throwing up a shield of light and blasting the beasts with a shock of holy magic. Ginny blinked, clearing her eyes and fired at one, knocking it to the ground where it dissolved into a pile of sand.

"Dragon whelps!" Anduin cried. "Black dragons by the look of them!"

"We've got to go," Ginny panted, and she dragged Anduin to the door. The prince made to open it, but Ginny stopped him. "Listen!"

Outside, there were cries of pain and the clash of battle. Ginny grimaced and glanced out the window. She didn't see any more whelps, but unless they flew in front of the moon they'd be hidden by the night.

"Is there anywhere we can hole up?" she demanded.

Anduin grabbed her arm and ran into the closet, closing the door behind them.

"I don't think now's the time to make good on my old offer," Ginny snapped at the prince. "I've got something a bit more pressing on my mind, like saving your sorry arse!"

Anduin ignored Ginny, pressing his hand at various points in on the wall until a panel slid back, revealing a dark staircase. "This way, it's a secret passage to the canals."

"Oh. Well. Carry on then."

Ginny followed Anduin down the passage, a light emanating from his palm to guide them along. They went down through several flights of stairs, the only sound the tread of their feat and the drip of water somewhere below.

"Here," Anduin said, coming to pool at the bottom of the stairs. "We have to dive under here. We'll come out in the canals. We can make our way to the Cathedral of Light. The brothers and sisters there will shelter us." The prince made to dive in first, but Ginny blocked him.

"I'll go first. Don't follow me. I'll come back if it's safe."

"But-"

Before Anduine could finish his protest, Ginny had kicked off her shoes and was down in the water, holding one dagger in her hand. She dived down beneath a lip of stone, then made for the dark surface above. She broke the surface, resisting the urge to gasp for breath, and listened, breathing shallowly. She heard nothing and dove back down, coming up in the pool where Anduind crouched waiting for her.

"It's safe, come on."

The two quickly climbed out of the canal, soaked to the bone. Ginny looked up at the keep, where several fires burned. There were distant shouts and an bell was tolling.

"Who goes there!" a voice shouted.

Ginny whirled, drawing her second dagger and cursing the fact her powder was wet. She put herself between an approaching set of lanterns and Anduin.

"It's the Prince!" a voice called. "Your majesty, what has happened?"

"The keep is under assault by black dragons," Anduin said, pointing up at one of the fires. "Take us to the Cathedral of Light at once! I must rally a defense of the keep."

The guards saluted and quickly formed a protective circle around Ginny and Anduin, taking off at a run. Ginny's feet flapped against the cobblestones and she fougth the weariness that came from a long day's work, but she was determined to see Anduin to safety. They were just turning on the path around the Dwarven District to the Cathedral Square when the water before them erupted and the guards shouted in panic.

"MORTAL FOOLS! THE SCALES OF TIME MUST BALANCE! FATE MUST NOT BE BROKEN! YOU STAND NOW UPON THE BRINK OF DESTRUCTION! SUBMIT! AND YOU WILL YET BE SAVED!"

Ginny staggered back as a massive drakanoid surged out of the water, swinging a massive two headed staff. Though he lacked wings, he was covered in scales with a horned head and talons on his hands. His skin was black as midnight, save for white traces along it. With a single stroke he sent three guards flying, climbing out of the canal and snarling at Ginny.

"No!" Anduin stepped forward, raising a shield of light before himself, Ginny and the two remaining guards. However, the drakanoid slammed his staff into the cobblestones and everyone was flung off their feet and sucked forward.

Ginny found herself pinned to the ground by a taloned foot, as the drakanoid raised his staff to crush her.

"AND SO TIME FLOWS ON!"

There was a sudden roar, and out of the darkness a lithe shape leapt up onto the drakanoid, biting with fangs and raking with claws. Ginny managed to scramble away, and Anduin hauled her to her feet, pulling her back from the drakanoid.

"INTERLOPER! YOU STAND AGAINST FATE! WHAT HOPE HAVE YOU TO CHANGE DESTINY?"

Grabbing on to his attacker, the drakanoid flung it at Ginny and Anduin, who had to dive out of the way as a great purple cat with long fangs hurled through the air. The cat landed on its feet, snarling and darting back at the drakanoid. As it passed Ginny and Anduin, the cat growled, "Run you idiots!"

The drakanoid was ready this time though, and swatted at the cat with its staff. The cat was bowled backwards again, laying still as a dark pool of blood formed beneath it.

"You shall take no more lives here!" Anduin said, and stepped forward, sending a surge of light into the cat, which climbed back to its feet, growling and hissing as it backed towards Ginny and Anduin.

The cat turned its head, it's eyes glowing in the fading moonlight. "I said run! I'm expendable! If the two of you die then everything is for naught! Go!"

"A King stands with his allies," Anduin said in shaky voice, taking a hesitant step forward as the drakenoid advanced, twirling its staff.

"For the Prince!" a guard cried, jumping at the drakanoid from the shadows where he'd been knocked.

With a flick of its staff the drakanoid slammed the guard to the ground, but to do so it lowered its guard. The cat sprang forward with a roar, Anduin cast several quick balls of light to strike at the drakenoid.

With her foe distracted, Ginny slipped into the shadows, dashing through the drakenoid to land behind it. She then swung upwards, slicing into the creature where its tail connected to the body, aiming for the spine.

The drakanoid roared in pain, lashing its tail and striking Ginny buffeting her aside, but it did not turn. Another guard had joined the cat in attacking from the front, and despite the whirling staff the drakanoid was hard pressed. Spying two fallen lanturn from one of the guards, Ginny scooped them up, shattering the oil reservoir of both. She hurled them on to the back of the drakenoid, where they both broke, spilling oil everywhere. The flame kindled, and the drakanoid snarled in pain as its back became an inferno.

The beast turned, jumping into the canal to quench the flames. However, as it was an oil fire, this simply caused the oil to coat the entire upper half of the beasts body, and it howled in agony as the flames licked over its face, blinding it.

"NO!"

"Now you die!" the cat suddenly turned into a night elf youth, his green hair standing out starkly against his black clothing. He reached towards the moon, then brought his hands down as the moonlight focused into a blinding beam and struck the drakenoids head. Anduin concentrated for a moment, light forming between his steepled fingers, the shoved his palms toward the creature unleashing a wave of light. With a final gurgle, the beast sank beneath the waves.

"That's done for it," the night elf panted. He turned to Ginny and Anduin, his eyes glowing in the moonlight. "Come on! More could come at any time!"

"Go, your highness," one of the guards urged as Anduin knelt to see to her wounds. "They're not after us. Go!"

Ginny had to drag a reluctant prince along, following after the night elf as he turned back into a large purple cat and blending into the shadows. As they crossed the bridge to the Cathedral district, there was a thunder of hooves, and a company of paladins bearing the banner of the Argent Crusade thundered up the street.

"Prince Anduin!" one of them called. The riders reined in, their leader bending over in his saddle. "My prince, what has happened?"

"Dragons, dragons in Stormwind," Anduin panted. "They've attacked the keep. One tried to kill us just now, a great drakanoid ten feet tall. We stopped it, but-"

"No more talk," the night elf snarled, appearing out of the shadows. The paladins drew their weapons and pointed them at the night elf, but he ignored it. "Your highness, we have to get you to safety. You, paladins, escort the prince to the Cathedral. I have 'fins to hunt."

"No," Anduin said firmly. He turned back to the lead paladin. "Lord Grayson, by the authority of my future crown, I order you to bring myself and the Lady Ginevra back to the keep to bring aide to my father."

"Dark words to say to a paladin, lad," Lord Grayson said, but he nodded. He reached a hand down, hauling Anduin up into the saddle, while another paladin did the same for Ginny. "Paladins of the Argent Crusade! We ride to battle! For the Light!"

"For the Light!" the paladins roared, and together the company thundered back to the keep.

"You're just as rash as I thought you'd be," a stag said to Ginny as it ran alongside the horse. "Damned Weasleys."

Ginny shook her head, but when she blinked the stag was still there, dashing along with the horses. The paladins seemed to accept it as one of them, and Ginny realized it had to be that night elf from before. Druids could take all sorts of beastly forms, and Night Elves were famous for their druidic inclinations.

The party raced to the keep, charging up the steps and not bothering to dismount as they raced through the great hall.

To their surprise, they were met by King Varian in full armor, accompanied by a wounded Captain Vancleef and the two strangers from before, the warrior and the gnome.

"Llane! There was a drakanoid," the stag panted, coming to a halt before the party of paladins and addressing the warrior. "It was dealt with. I take it you were successful?"

"Llane?" Varian said, turning to the warrior. He frowned, eyeing the warrior's armor. "An interesting name, with interesting garb to go with it. That armor is the very picture of that which my father wore to battle. King Llane Wrynn is 25 years dead though. Who, exactly, are you?"

Before Llane could answer, Varian strode forward. "Bah! It matters not now. Anduin! Are you hale, my son?"

"Father! Lady Ginevera lead me to safety, then we fell in this this druid and some guards. We defeated a black drakenoid, then Lord Grayson and his knights carried us to safety. I thought to come to your aide, but it seems you are safe."

"Aye, thanks to Lady Vancleef and Llane and this gnome," the king said, glancing at the two strangers. Llane was shifting uneasily, blue eyes looking back and forth, brow wrinkled.

"That's not a gnome," Vanessa broke in. She hobbled forward supported by Ripsnarl, her side a mess of bloody bandages. "That's a Light blessed Bronze dragon."

The party recoiled, and weapons were drawn until Varian raised his hands in a calming gesture. "Be at peace. The Bronze flight is our ally in our war against their black cousins. But I have never known a bronze dragon to meddle over much in mortal affairs."

"The bronze flight...they are the keepers of time, yes?" Anduin asked, sliding off of the horse and coming forward to peer at the gnome, who smiled up at him sweetly.

"Yes, yes, we do traditionally monitor temporal anomalies. That's why we came here tonight, actually. We were told of a most extraordinary event, you see. Those were not, in fact, black dragons you fought tonight."

"They looked black enough to me," Ginny grumbled.

"Looks can be deceiving," the night elf muttered.

The gnome-dragon bowed. "Jasyn is correct. Those were, in fact, members of the Infinite Dragonflight. Corrupted members of my own flight, actually. It's a long and tragic tale that won't begin for a few decades so I can't share the details. In fact, we really must be going before I accidently cause a paradox. Bye bye!"

The gnome made as if to leave along with Llane and Jasyn the night elf, but the King put a hand on Llanes pauldron, spinning the warrior about.

"Tonight, you saved both the life of myself, and of my son. Might I see the face of the one I owe such a debt to, stranger?"

Llane hesitated, looking not to the king, but turning to look at Ginny, a longing look in the warrior's eyes. For a moment, Ginny though she saw tears, but then Llane lowered the visor of the lions head helm, face becoming hidden, and faced the king. "I fear not, your majesty." Llane went down on one knee. "I must work in secret, for now. As Chromie said, speaking over much could have disastrous temporal consequences."

"Like making it so your parents die or hate each other so you're never born," Jasyn growled, showing a single canine as he glared down at Llane.

Llane's fists clenched, and the warrior bowed even lower. "Forgive me, Varian, King of Stormwind, son of Llane. Know that I bear your father's name to do him honor. I think of him as...as a guide and an inspiration to myself, and those around me."

Varian nodded slowly, glancing at Chromie, who was humming to herself and examining a small hour glass that she'd pulled from her robes. "The Keepers of Time," he murmured. The king nodded, tapping Llane on the shoulder. "Rise, warrior. You do the name of Llane proud, I think. My father would have approved of it, and of your actions."

"Thank you, sire," Llane rasped, rising slowly. "I am...I am honored to hear you say such."

"Admiral Rogers!" Varian barked. "Do you have this warrior's blade?"

Rogers stepped forward, bearing a scabbard with a sword inside. The hilt was long and slender, and just below it a gem glowed with a powerful yellow light. Varian hefted it, glancing down at the sword at his waste. The two could have been twins. After a moment, he handed the scabbard and blade to Llane.

"Bear this well, Llane of Stormwind. It is a mighty and noble blade. A treasure of your house, I am certain."

Llane gingerly took the sword, helmet lowering to touch the gem as if Llane were kissing the blade. "I shall, your majesty. Ever shall I think of you, and of my namesake, as I wield this sword."

"Go now, with my blessing and thanks," Varian proclaimed. "Should you ever require the aid of myself or of Stormwind, call upon it, and it shall be given. This night I owe you a debt I do not think I can ever repay: the life of my son and heir, the last great love of my life."

"Thank you," Llane said, bowing once more,sword held out towards the king. Then Llane turned, following after Jasyn and Chromie. When they reached the entrance, Chromie raised her hourglass, and the trio vanished in whirl of sands.

"Father, who were they?" Anduin asked, coming to stand beside the king.

Varian glanced at Anduin, frowning. Then, he looked at Ginny and Vanessa, his eyes narrowing. "Ladies, I must apologize. You have both suffered wounds on behalf of me and mine. Please, this night, stay here, and let your wounds be tended to."

Ginny licked her lips, shifting uncomfortable "Well, you see, my uncle Elling and my aunt Elaine will be really worried, and I should be getting back home. Besides, in the morning there will be cheeses to make and-" Ginny shut her mouth with a clack, realising she was babbling.

"Your..family...is here, child. And will be well taken care of. Please, come, rest. You are dead on your feet." Varian rubbed his face with the palm of his hand. "We are all dead on our feet. Let us rest. The morrow is time enough to consider all this."


	24. Taming Lions III

Ginny jerked awake, her eyes wide. "He said Weasleys!" She looked around in a panic, then scrambled out of bed in only a night gown, rushing to the door of the room. She threw open the door to find a startled maid outside. "He said Weasleys!" she said, grabbing the maid by her apron and shaking her. The poor maid squeaked in shock, then fell to the floor as Ginny let go and dashed off down the hall to startled shouts from the guards. She slammed open the door to Vanessa's room and dove for the captains bed, slapping aside the pistol and grabbing Vanessa by by her shirt. "He said Weasleys!"

Vanessa blinked several times as Ginny gasped for breath, her eyes darting about the room. "Where is he! He said Weasleys"!

"That's the second time you've said that," Vanessa said slowly, putting her hands on Ginny's. "Mind setting me down and telling me just what this is all about?"

Ginny leg go and collapsed into Vanessa's arms sobbing. Slowly, Vancleef reached up and patted Ginny's back, rocking her gently. "There, there, it's alright, I-"

The door banged open again and the king himself barged in, twin blades in his hand with two guards behind him. "What is it, are the dragons back?"

Ginny let out a squeak and dived under the covers, realizing that she was dressed only in her nightgown. Vanessa rolled her eyes and stood, planting her hands on her hips, which made the guards flush and turn aside, as she was only wearing an oversized nightshirt and shorts. "I think my little sister is just recalling a bit of information. It startled her. I'll get a full report and let you know, Varian. Now get the hell out of my room until I invite you in, and next time don't bring your armed gorrillas."

"I...yes, I apologize Lady Vancleef," the King said, sheathing his swords. "I was merely...forgive me." Varian turned and shoved the guards out of the door, closing it carefully behind himself.

Vanessa turned to Ginny, frowning as Ginny peaked out from under the covers. "Alright, do you care to explain just why you barged into my room? Granted, it's bloody noon, but we were up until Neptulon only knows when and I'm still exhausted from the healing they gave me."

"I'm sorry," Ginny said, sniffing and wiping away tears. "It's just...that night elf. He said, "Damned Weasleys."

Vanessa stared at Ginny, blinking twice, then nodded slowly. "Well, as you have told me, you are, in fact, a Weasley. And you have the habit of being infuriating. As you are currently demonstrating."

"Don't you see though!" Ginny said, waving her arms frantically. "That means there's more than one Weasley! Vanessa, my family is here, on Azeroth, and that night elf knows about them!"

"Or, maybe Weasley is just a common name where he's from," Vanessa said dryly. "It's certainly not the oddest name I've ever heard."

"Oh." Ginny deflated slightly, but then perked up again. "But how did he know I'm a Weasley?"

"Because the king presented you as Lady Ginevra Weasley, Ward of the Realm?" Vanessa offered. "Your name isn't exactly a secret."

Suddenly Ginny was having a hard time not crying, and she hid her face in the blankets. A moment later the bed creaked, and Vanessa wrapped her arms around her. "Shhhh. It's alright. Maybe your family is out there, somewhere. Where there night elves in England?"

"No, only house elves, but we were too poor to afford one," Ginny sniffed, clutching at Vanessa. "God, I haven't thought of my family in, well, in ages. And now I miss them so much... stupid night elf."

"Come on, let's get you dressed and get some breakfast into you, you'll feel much better than," Vanessa said quietly. This time, both she and Ginny wore dresses at Vanessa's insistence.

"But I've never even seen you wear a dress before," Ginny protested.

Vanessa grinned and winked at her. "I told you, I'm seizing the means of production."

"You are always on about seizing the means of production from the Bourgeoisie and distributing them to their rightful owners in the workers," Ginny said tiredly. "But I never really got what the hell you were on about. What do dresses have to do with that? Why can't we just wear trousers?"

"Because one must choose one's weapons carefully when arriving at the field of battle," Vanessa said, batting her eyelashes at Ginny. "You don't fight shark with a sword, and you don't use a harpoon on an orc."

"And you were complaining I'm bloody irritating," Ginny groused. But she didn't protest too hard, because the dresses really were lovely, and maybe if she felt pretty enough she could forget about her family again.

When they stepped out of Vanessa's rooms, Ginny was surprised to find Anduin pacing back and forth anxiously in the hall. He whirled as soon as they stepped out and ran over, his eyes full of concern. "Lady Ginevra! I heard you were trouble this morning. Please, are you wounded? What has happened?"

"It's nothing," Ginny mumbled. "I just thought...I thought that night elf knew something about my family."

"Your family?" Anduin said in confusion. He glanced at Vanessa, but didn't say anything.

"We're not actually related," Vanessa said cooly. "We're both sort of orphans who fell in together."

Anduin nodded slowly. "Well, I can have father issue a warrant for the night elf Jasyn. I would like to know more of both him and Llane. They came from nowhere and departed just as suddenly."

Ginny had to resist the urge to throw her arms around Anduin and kiss him, and not just because he was sort of cute. "Thank you," she stammered, dropping an awkward curtsy. "I would be forever in your debt."

"Nonsense. It is the least I can do," Anduin said firmly. He offered Ginny his arm. "May I escort you ladies to breakfast. Or perhaps lunch. It is after midday I fear."

"That would be lovely," Ginny said, taking Anduin's arm and trying hard not to flush. "I'm famished."

Anduin escorted Ginny and Vanessa to a private dining chamber on the royal floor, where Varian was sitting with a glass of weak beer, a few hard cheeses, smoked meat, and some fresh bread. He was ignoring his meal though, reading through a large, dusty tome with several more stacked on the table before him. He was so absorbed in the volume Anduin had to clear his throat twice before the king looked up.

"Ah, Anduin, good morning. I see you brought the ladies with you." He gestured to the table. "Please, sit, eat." He marked his place in the book with a bit of ribbon and set it aside, calling for food.

Anduin rushed forward to pull Ginny's chair out for her, then grinned and sat next to her. "I don't often have a chance to force father to practice his manners at meal times. You're lucky you didn't find him sitting on the table and using his sword to carve bread from the loaf."

Varian gave his son an amused look, then shrugged. "What can I say; I do not often have time to take such formalities for a meal. A king's work is never done."

"Well, I know you're sticking to iron rations, but I've bloody well had enough of them. I want meat, eggs, and some coffee," Vanessa ordered the servants. "And bring something better for the king as well. You shouldn't be starving to death just because some poor soul is stuck at the ass end of nowhere on your orders. If the captain can't think with a clear mind, how is he to steer his ship?"

"That's what I keep telling him!" Anduin said, gesturing at Vanessa. "Father, surely you'll listen to Captain Vancleef. She's not the first one to say it!"

Varian eyed Vanessa thoughtfully, his eyes roaming up and down her figure as he tapped a finger at his lips. "Hmm?" he said after a moment, glancing at his son. "Oh, yes, I suppose I should eat." He looked back at the stack of books, tapping the one he'd been reading with his palm.

Vanessa grabbed the book without asking permission, opening it. Her eyebrows shot up. "Codex Draconomicus." She flipped to the page Varian had been reading. "Reading up on the bronzies, I see. Well, I tell you where they live if you want to know that."

Varian reached to take the book back, then stopped, surprised. "Oh? Where does the Bronze Flight make their home?"

"Tanaris, they're holed up in the desert and kill any fool that approaches," Vanessa said, grabbing the entire stack of books and shoving them at a servant. "Go put these away. His Royal Kill Stealingness can be boring when he's not in my company."

"Just set them there," Varian ordered. He bared his teeth at Vanessa, his eyes twinkling. "And if you don't want your kills stolen, you should be quicker to finish them."

"You're not honestly still on about the frost wrym, are you?" Ginny asked incredulously, sipping at the tea a servant had bought for her. She'd grown accustomed to coffee aboard ship, but she was feeling particularly home sick today and wanted a nice cuppa of builders tea.

"That, and the damned dragon last night," Vanessa grumped. "I had that thing right where I wanted it! I'd poisoned it and it was slowing down! I was just about to deliver the final blow when you jumped in and lopped the head off without so much as asking!"

"You were bleeding on the ground," Varian said, his tone dry. "If Llane had not shielded you, you would have been dead. You should be thanking me for saving your life."

"Is that why you were barging into my room this morning? Looking for payment?" Vanessa asked.

Anduin looked scandalized, but Varian leaned back in his chair, a thoughtful look on his face. Ginny saw Vanessa's ears go bright red, though she kept a game face she knew the captain had not been expecting that reaction. Ginny flushed plenty for the both of them, hiding her face in her tea cup.

"Tell me," Varian said, breaking the silence long after it had become awkward. "What did you think of Llane last night?"

"Seemed like a decent man to have at your back in a fight," Vanessa said with a shrug, her shoulders sagging slightly at relief at the change of subject. Ginny suspected that she was trying to be seductive, but was just really bad at it. Probably because she'd spent her life fighting off men instead of trying to lure them in.

"Man?" Varian considered this. "Hmm. Yes, Llane did indicate as such. But beyond that. What was your impression?"

Vanessa glanced at Ginny, a hint of confusion on her race, before schooling her features and looking back at Varian. "Well, he was certainly confident enough, bursting into a ladies chambers in the wee hours of the morning and shouting about danger. Keeps odd company. A night elf and a bronzie? Not to mention a bronzie that shows itself as a gnome. Every other dragon I've ever heard of is a human or elf of some sort. Being a gnome is just downright weird."

"I had not considered that," Varian mused. "I have been acquainted with several dragons in my time, Onyxia, Neltharion, Korialstrasz, even Alexstrasza herself. They all disguise themselves as humans and elves. This...Chromie… is an anomaly. As were her companions."

"Father, Lady Ginevra has a request regarding the night elf Jasyn," Anduin put in.

The king looked to Ginny, who hastily set her fork down and smoothed her skirt. "Your majesty, Jasyn mentioned Weasleys. I think...I think he may know of other members of my family."

The king glanced at Vanessa, who shrugged. "She's just a stray I picked up. I think of her as my sister, but we're not blood related."

"I see." Varian looked back to Ginny, considering. "From whence do you hail, Ginevra? Gilneas by your accent I would guess."

"Um, actually, I'm from England," Ginny admitted.

That took the king off guard, and he blinked several times. "I am not familiar with...England. Where does it lie?"

"Nowhere," Ginny admitted, looking down at her plate. "I've never been able to find it on any maps."

"Just tell them the story," Vanessa said, cracking a soft boiled egg with her spoon. "It will save us all a lot of time."

Ginny quickly told how she'd simply woken up one day in Booty Bay, and briefly described her life in England and how different it had been from Azeroth. When she was finished, Varian was no longer sitting at the table, but staring out a window gazing down at the city, while Anduin gaped open mouthed at Ginny.

"Another world. Bronze dragons. A stranger in the armor of my house, bearing the twin of Shalamayne." Varian turned to look not at Ginny, but at Vanessa. "If I had another son, I would have named him for my father."

Vanessa gapsed and dropped her spoon, but quickly recovered with a seductive grin. "Well, is that an offer? It's been awhile since I got laid. Probably been a while for you two, huh hot stuff?"

Varian let out a heavy sigh and looked back out the window while Anduin looked at Vanessa with eyes so wide Ginny half thought he'd turned into a gnome.

 _Bloody hell,_ Ginny thought. _Is that what she means by seizing the means of production?_

"My wife, Tiffin, was my beloved," he said, resting his hands on the window sill. "She died too young. Though at first I had little fondness for her, in time I great to treasure her more than life itself. For years my advisors have counseled me to take another wife, perhaps Lady Proudmoore or one of my own noble ladies. I have resisted all attempts. I have a son and heir, and thought I did not require more."

Ginny glanced at Vanessa, who had picked her spoon back up. It was trembling slightly in her hands, and though her lips were parted, no sound escaped.

The king turned back around to the breakfast table, folding his arms over his chest and leaning against the wall. After a time, he looked back up at his son. "Anduin. Are you content?"

"I...Father?" Anduin managed, looking completely out of his depth.

"Am I sufficient as a parent?" the king said, his voice tight. "You do not recall your mother. You were but a babe in arms when she died. Have you ever wanted for a mothers love?"

"You...you have been an excellent father," Anduin managed. "I know you love me, and I have wanted for nothing growing up. You neither pampered me nor denied me. You were firm, but kind, and I always knew I could come to you with problems."

Ginny felt extremely uncomfortable, wondering if she should leave. She glanced at Vanessa, wondering how they could excuse themselves, but the captain was leaning forward, studying Varian intently, as if she were seeing him for the first time.

The king sighed heavily and came back to the table, taking a seat. He studied Vanessa for a long while as they both ate in silence. Vanessa glanced up Varian several times, but she no longer seemed to be trying to be seductive. Instead, she looked more like she was appraising a new sailor who had asked to join her crew.

Once they had finished eating, the king stood. "Captain Vancleef. You deploy in two days time to patrol up to Valiance Keep, then across to Westguard, correct?"

"I do," Vanessa said slowly. "Do you wish me to delay? To remain here?'

"No." Varrian gripped the hilt of his sword. "I have stayed in the rear long enough. Soon, Bolvar will make his breakthrough with the Horde at the Wrathgate. When he does, I intend to be there. You're coming with me, captain." The king glanced at Anduin and Ginny, who were sitting together, staring wide eyed at the kings odd shift in behavior. "Anduin, do you still wish to see the front lines?"

The prince stood so quickly he knocked his chair back. He saluted, grinning widely. "Yes father!"

"Good." The king eyed Ginny. "My son will need a talented bodyguard at his side. Someone who can see danger coming, and knows the underhanded methods of assassins. Will you accompany us, young Miss Weasley? Perhaps in northrend we can find this night elf."

Ginny stood, her eyes shining. "Yes, your majesty!"

"Good. The time for action has come. I will not bend to the whims of fate, but neither shall I lie idle and wait for destiny to come to me. The future belongs to the Alliance!"

\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\\\/

Ginny rode beside Anduin, trying hard to focus on the landscape around them. Though they were in the middle of a column of heavy alliance cavalry, she wasn't certain that the undead couldn't just pop up out of the ground again. One of the cavalry officers had mentioned that the nerubians, a race of spider like undead, were known to do just that. Still, Anduin was making that job difficult, as instead of treating her like one of his bodyguards, he kept insisting on talking to her as if she were his close compilation.

"Lady Ginevra, do you think father will allow me to fight the undead myself? I know I'm best with healing spells, but I saw that collum of draenei vindicators and I know their holy magic is most effective against the undead. I'd like a chance to test myself as well, to show our allies that we of Stormwind can stand beside them."

"My prince, you have got to stop calling me that," Ginny sighed. "I'm supposed to be your bodyguard. It's not like when we were aboard ship. Now we're in danger, and I've got to keep my eye open."

"Ah." Anduin considered this. "Well then, Miss Weasley if you will then, do you-"

"Excuse me, did you say Weasley?"

Ginny's eyes widened and she turned to look at the draenei vindicator that had been riding past them. On second glance though, Ginny realized it wasn't a draenei at all, but a human in draenic armor on an elekk.

"Yes, this is my companion, Lady Ginevra Weasley," Anduin explained.

"Bodyguard," Ginny snapped. "I'm your bodyguard. But do you know the name Weasley?"

The paladin raised the visor on his helmet, and Ginny gasped in astonishment. He was young, perhaps the same age she was, and above his green eyes was a lightning bolt scar.

"I am Harry Potter of the Exodar," he said. "I am friend of one Ronald Weasley. Do you know him?"

"You know Ron?!" Ginny demanded, riding her horse right beside Harry's. "And you're Harry Potter! Mum knitted a jumper for you for Christmas!"

Harry blinked in surprise. "I...yes, yes I do recall receiving a jumper from Ron's mother for Christmas. Are you...are you from Earth!"

Ginny practically leapt out of her saddle to hug Harry and began weeping and laughing at the same time. "I'm not alone! Oh thank the Raven Lord and Neptulon I'm not alone!"

"Harry?" a draenei woman in leathers asked, coming up beside him. "Do you know this girl?"

Anduin, for his part, flushed glared at Harry angrily. "Sir, I must take issue with any man who causes Lady Ginevra to weep."

"Light! I did not mean- Impa, I think this is Ron's sister," Harry said, gently lifting Ginny back onto her own horse with one arm. He bowed to Anduin. "Forgive me, sire. I meant no offense. And I do not believe she is harmed, only surprised."

Ginny continued to laugh and cry, wiping away tears with the back of her hand. "It's alright Anduin, he's from Earth, like me! I told you I wasn't mad! I really am from another world! And Harry here is too! But Ron, where is Ron? Bloody hell I've dreamed of a day when I could see my family again! Is everyone here? What about mum and dad? Bill? Charlie? The twins? Even Percy!"

"I never said you were mad, Miss Weasley," Anduin said gently. He looked over at Harry, the anger gone, replaced with curiosity. "You are also of another world? I was given to understand the draenei were from Argus. Did they visit Earth at one point?"

"No, I arrived here in Azeroth by another means," Harry replied. "Honestly, I do not know how I came to be here. I simply awoke on Bloodmyst Isle one day, alone."

"That's what happened to me!" Ginny said excitedly. "I went to sleep at home in the Burrow and then poof! I woke up on Booty Bay with a goblin yelling at me! But Harry, please, my family?"

"Ron is with his adopted sister Mylra Stormborn and the Bronzebeard expedition, I believe," the draenei woman said. "I am Impa of the Exodar, boon companion of Harry Potter."

"Bronzebeard Expedition? Where are they?" Ginny demanded, rising in the saddle and looking around with a frantic expression on her face. "What about the others?"

"So far as I know, Ron, Hermione, and myself are the only others from Earth, Ginny," Harry said gently. "I am actually very shocked to meet another. You say you also have no idea how you arrived?"

Slumping in her saddle, Ginny sniffed and hid her face by looking away, now fighting back racking sobs. "No...I...they're not here? You're sure?"

Harry looked to the prince, who tentatively put a hand on Ginny's shoulder. To Anduin's shock, she whimpered and grabbed a hold of his hand, clutching it tightly. "It is alright, Miss Weasley. We will locate your brother, you have my word. I shall speak with my father at once. Come, let us ride to the head of the collum. Sir Harry, Lady Impa, please, accompany us. My father will be most interested to learn there are others here from Earth."

"As you wish, my lord," Harry said, saluting and lowering his visor.

Reluctantly Ginny let Anduin's hand go and followed him up the length of the collum to where the king rode with Captain Vancleef. Behind the two of them Ripsnarl was loping along in his beast form, and Helix was riding very uncomfortably atop a pony. The goblin had obviously never sat a horse before, and did not appear to be enjoying the experience.

"Hey, you two keepin' out of trouble?" Helix called as the prince and Ginny road past. "What's lit a fire in your britches?"

"It would be wise to address your future king with more respect, Helix," Ripsnarl growled, still bounding along on all fours.

"Ain't my king. I'm a proud member of the Brotherhood. That makes me an anarchist," Helix declared.

"We're not anarchists you moron, we're Neo-Defias," Ginny snarled as she went past. "Now shut up and let us talk to the king."

Varian glanced over his shoulder as Ginny and Anduin rode up, with Harry and Impa hot on their heels. "Does something trouble you, Anduin, Ginevra?" the king asked.

Anduin opened his mouth to reply, but Ginny pointed at Harry and said, "He's from Earth too! And he knows where my brother, Ron is! That's who Jasyn the night elf must have been talking about?" She turned to Harry, grinning excitedly. "Do you know a night elf shapeshifter named Jasyn?"

Harry shook his head, then bowed formally to the king. "May the Light guide your path and the Naaru grant you wisdom, King. I am Vindicator Harry Potter of the Exodar. This is my boon companion, Impa of the Earthen Ring. I do know Miss Weasley's brother, Ronald Weasley. He along with one other companion of mine were brought here. I am certain Ron will be overjoyed to see you again, Miss Weasley."

"So, more of you from Earth," Varian said, reigning in. He raised his hand, and the collum came to a halt. "Send scouts ahead," he called. "I must take council for a moment. Be wary. The tundra is not a safe place."

There were shouts from officers and several riders were dispatched. Varian motioned to an area surrounded by stones nearby. "Sir Harry, Miss Weasley, come with me. I would invite the lady shaman and Captain Vancleef as well. You had best come as well, Anduin. The others keep watch."

Varian dismounted in the stone circle, and waited for the others to do the same. Harry removed his helmet and bowed, the stood at attention, waiting for orders. Ginny was practically dancing with nervous energy, and found herself absently twirling a knife in her hands. She made it disappear up her sleeve, but couldn't quite stand still.

"Tell me, Vindicator Potter. Have you seen any bronze dragons?"

"Bronze dragons?" Harry asked, confused. He glanced at Impa, who shook her head. "No, your majesty. There were two dragons slain at Valiance keep, but they were black."

"So I was informed," the king murmured, pacing back and forth with his hands clasped behind his back. "But they were not truly black dragons. The remains turned to sand. And they had odd white markings. They were of the same breed that assaulted Stormwind Keep two weeks past. The Infinite Dragonflight. Corrupted members of the bronze."

"I cannot say, your majesty. I did not see the beasts until they were slain," Harry admitted. "And once the San'layn was killed, we were too busy fortifying our defenses and tending to the wounded to think overmuch of such things."

The king nodded. "That was good work you Vindicators did. Tell me, did you see or hear anything else odd? What of a warrior, dressed in armor fashioned like a lion, and bearing a sword such as this?" Varian held up his sword, the gem glowing faintly in the light.

"Nothing I can recall, sire," Harry said.

"There were those two strange mages," Impa put in. "The ones you thought you knew."

"I had forgotten. Yes, there were twin mages. Fred and George. Though which was which was something of a mystery," Harry admitted.

"Fred and George? They're here?" Ginny asked eagerly. "Surely you knew them at Hogwarts, Harry? You do remember Hogwarts, don't you?"

Harry shifted uncomfortably. "I remember, yes. They were not your elder brothers, Ginny. For one, there was a boy and a girl. For another, they were much older, about 20 I believe. They claimed to work for Archmage Khadgar, and they vanished soon after the keep was cleansed. To where, I know not."

"Khadgar," Varian mused. "What does the Guardian of Tirisfal have to do with this?" He looked back at Harry. "This mystery runs deep. I fear that something even more dangerous than the Scourge is at work here. Anything that commands the attention of the Bronze Dragonflight is a threat to the very fabric of reality itself. I charge you to inform myself or one of my officers at once if any more of these odd individuals or bronze dragons show themselves. I will speak with Maraad, the Vindicator incharge of your detachment. I may have need of your service, Harry Potter."

"Regrettably, I am on a mission from the Naaru A'dal, your majesty," Harry said. He dug into a pouch and pulled out a misshapen lump of metal. "I was charged with finding what was lost. I believe this sword hilt was once a mighty weapon of the Light, used against the Scourge. I have done a little research, and I know that the San'layn were once followers of Illidan the Betrayer. At one time, they were servants of the Light, twisted and corrupted. If this blade can be restored, it could be the key to defeating the Scourge."

"May I?" Varian said, holding out a hand. Harry dropped the battered hilt into it, and the king studied it for a moment. "This is old. Very old. Made by elves before the breaking of the world with the help of dragons. I have never seen one before, only drawings. My own blade, Shalamayne, is based on such a design. This would indeed be a powerful weapon against the Scourge."

The king passed the hilt back to Harry, who tucked it back into his pouch. "Your quest is a worthy one, Vindicator. Perhaps I or my agents may be able to help you in restoring the blade. If it is so, you have only need to call upon us. Where do you intend to take it?"

"To Highlord Fordring," Harry said. "I was instructed by A'dal to locate him. We would have set out earlier, but after our battle with the San'layn we needed to rest and learn more of the blade."

"A wise decision," Varian declared. "I would also council you to seek the aid of the elves. Travel to Dalaran to speak with Vereesa Windrunner. She is one of the few remaining ranking high elves, and could tell you more of the origin of the blade."

Harry bowed deeply, hand over his heart. "We shall, your majesty."

Varian nodded. "We shall remain in touch, you and I, Harry Potter. I am most intrigued by those of you from another world, and of those who accompany you. Ride with me, and tell me of your land."

"What about Ron?" Ginny blurted. "Varian, I mean, your majesty, surely you can help locate him?"

"Indeed. It would do my heart good to see you reunited with your family, Ginevera," Varian said, smiling warmly at Ginny. He glanced at Anduin, who was nodding eagerly. "And perhaps make my son glad as well. I would also have words with your brother. You four seem caught up in great events, and I would know more of them. Where is Ronald Weasley?"

"From his letters, he was to join the Bronzebeard expedition," Impa informed. "They too were sent on a mission from Naaru A'dal. He wrote to us of finding the hidden king, and putting the sleeper to rest."

"A great mission for a youth," Varian mused. He glanced at Harry. "How old are you, Potter?"

"I believe I am fifteen, sire. On Earth I was born in midsummer, which passed not a week ago here. Time on Azeroth is counted slightly differently, but I believe it is much the same and I have been here for just over three years. Ron is my elder by a season."

"Not yet a man, but no longer a boy," Varian said. "You are of an age with my son, Anduin. What of you, Ginevera? I do not believe I have ever asked."

Ginny shrugged. "I don't know. I was a year and a half younger than Ron, so I should be nearly 14 if I'm not already."

"She's a woman now," Vanessa said with a grunt. "I told her most of what it means to be a woman and from what she told me Elaine finished the job." She raised an eyebrow at Varian. "Why the sudden interest? You making plans I should know about?"

"Trying to discern the web of fate," Varian muttered. He walked over to one of the tall stones, resting a hand on it and gazing out over the tundra. "There is much I still need to learn about this Earth and why four children were sent to Azeroth. Why they have been given such important missions, and why they have altered fate so." He looked over at Vanessa. "Would you have come to the side of Stormwind if Ginevra had not counseled you to do so?"

The captain stood silent for a moment, then walked around in front of the king, leaning on a rock to his right. "I don't know. Probably not. I was ready to watch you and your city burn. But Red convinced me to do otherwise. I'm grateful to her for that. I still hate what happened to my father, what is happening to the small people of Stormwind, of the Alliance. But if I'd stayed an angry rebel, I don't know that I ever would have been able to make any real change. Now I find myself in a place where I might be able to get the ear of the king. Maybe more. I'm willing, if you're interested."

Varian turned and glanced at the four youths behind him. "Return to the collum. I need to confer with Captain Vancleef."

Ginny walked with Anduin back to the horses, frowning at Harry as he talked quietly with Impa. Anduin was silent, though he kept sneaking glances at Ginny. Finally, Ginny spoke up. "Harry?"

"Yes?" he said, his hand on his saddle strap to pull himself back upon his elekk.

"What do you think about...here. What does Ron think about Azeroth?"

"I have found my home," Harry said. He turned to Impa, reaching out a hand towards her and smiling. The draenei woman took Harry's hand in her own and squeezed it, a wide grin on her face. After a moment, she dropped Harry's hand and climbed up on her mount. Harry glanced back at Ginny and shrugged. "Ron wants to find a way to Earth. For myself, even if given the chance, I would not go."

"Yeah." Ginny nodded slowly. "Yeah that sounds about right." She mounted her own horse, wheeling it about. After a moment, she glanced down at Anduin, who had his head down and was fumbling with his stirrup. "Hey, need a hand, your majesty?"

The prince looked up at Ginny, face flushed. "No, thank you. I can manage." He pulled himself up onto his mount, staring off into the distance. After a minute, he asked, "Ginevra, I mean, Miss Weasley. Do you wish to return to Earth?"

Ginny blew out her cheeks. "Honestly? I don't know."

"Would...would you consider staying here? With me?" Anduin asked tentatively.

"What, you want me to be your bodyguard for the rest of your life?" Ginny teased. "Or are you just waiting to cash in the debt I owe you? I thought you said on the ship you weren't going to do that."

Anduin was quiet again for a time. When he spoke, his tone was hesitant and halting. "A prince...a king...they cannot marry as they will. My father and his council will choose my bride. I may have no say in the matter at all. I can make you no promises, nor do I want to hurt you with false pretenses. But for now, I am...glad...of your company. And I think father likes you, at least a bit. I am certain...I am certain we could ensure a good future for you. Perhaps you could serve as captain of my bodyguard, or an agent of the crown. I do not know. Whatever would bring you joy."

Ginny found herself breathing fast, and had to take a calming breath. "I...I think for now, I'd like to stay here. My life...well, since I've arrived I've not exactly been a good person, Anduin. I've done some pretty terrible things. I've got blood on my hands. I don't think I could go home and face my family, to have them see what I've become."

Ron...well, he and I were always close. We were the two youngest, and we got along well. He'd understand. But my mum and dad? Bill? Charlie? I don't think they would. God knows Percy wouldn't. The twins would think it was a big joke. I think...I think that my family might be in my past, and need to stay there."

"I don't judge you for your past, Miss Weasley," Anduin said gently. "Actions are what defines the character of a person. And from what I have seen you do, your character is that of a kind, selfless woman, who I wish I had half the courage of."

Ginny fiddled with her reins, unsure of what to say. She glanced up at Anduin, a timid smile on her lips. "Would...would you call me Ginny? At least when were' alone."

A slow smile spread over the princes face. "Only if you consent to calling me Anduin. In private, of course?"

"What about Andy?" Ginny teased.

Anduin soberly considered the prospect, which made Ginny blush furiously. "Andy...I like it. Yes." He nodded firmly. "When we are alone, I shall be Andy, and you, Ginny."

Before Ginny had to decide if she should die of embarrassment or delight, Vanessa stormed up, slapped the kings horse on the rear so it started and trotted away, mounted her own, and said. "That...that...ARGH!" and galloped off to where Ripsnarl and Helix were waiting. "We're going scouting!"

"Huh?" Helix said, looking up from the dice game that Ripsnarl was hurriedly packing away. "Here? On land? Look, captain, I'm a pretty fair lookout but none of us know nothing' about scoutin' on land. Let the other-"

"Helix," Ripsnarl growled. The goblin looked at him, exasperated. "Shut up and do what the woman says if you value your life."

"Sheesh. Ok, ok. Scouting it is. Whatever." The goblin quickly tried to mount his horse, only to teeter and fall off. He swore a blue streak, then successfully mounted and took off after Vanessa and Ripsnarl who were galloping across the plain.

A moment later, Varian returned, taking his horse from a confused soldier. A large red mark was on his left cheek, in a shape oddly similar to that of Captain Vancleef's hand.

"Father?" Anduin asked, his tone confused.

"One day, my son, you will understand." The king gave Ginny a knowing look. "Miss Weasley has something of a temper herself, unless I miss my guess. But if she is worth it, I think you will learn to ride out that storm."

Before Anduin or Ginny could puzzle out just what that meant, the king waved his sword over his head and shouted, "We ride!"

Ginny didn't see Vanessa again for several hours, and when she did, Vanessa rode well behind the king. Helix and Ripsnarl stayed well clear of the obviously seething woman. But when they made camp, Vanessa boldly marched straight up to the king and practically ordered him to dine with her in his private tent. To Ginny's amazement, the king nodded his assent.

"Do you know something I don't?" Ginny asked Anduin as they sat around a campfire, eating a meal of hot stew and bread with Harry and Impa. "What has gotten into those two?"

"I don't know. Father has cordial relations with many of his officers, but he seems to have taken a special interest in Captain Vancleef," Anduin said with a shrug.

"It is obvious, is it not?" Impa said around a mouthful of bread. She chewed and swallowed, pointing her spoon the kings tent. "Your mother, that is, your father's mate, she is long since passed on, yes?"

Anduin winced slightly, but nodded. "Yes. I never truly knew my mother. Father speaks of her sometimes, but not often."

"Well, your father is lonely. He is a powerful man. A man such as that needs a mate to stand beside him through the trials of the light, to listen to his sorrows, share his burdens, and give him comfort and rest," Impa explained. "That is what Harry and I do in some ways for each other now. I share his tent, and we speak of the troubles of the day alone. It is as the Naaru intended."

Anduin blushed deeply and looked away, and Ginny shrugged. "Oh, well, it's been a while since the captain had a boy. She had this cute elf whore in Booty Bay she'd buy when she got the itch while we were in port. I didn't think the king was her type, but that explains a lot of what she's been doing."

"My father would not-" Anduin cut himself off, turning nearly purple as he struggled to breath.

"Wait, Impa, are you saying that you and I-" now it was Harry's turn to go beat red. He waved his hands frantically. "Look, we haven't...I...Light! Impa are you serious?"

"We are not yet man and wife," Impa said calmly, dipping her bread in the stew. "But I think when we are both old enough we shall go before the Anchorites and say the words. I would like it to be so, would not you?"

"Yes! I mean, I would, but I didn't think-" Harry rubbed his hands through his hair, looking desperate. "You really love me?"

Impa gave Harry a knowing look. "Do you know any other who would follow you across this world and to another on such a quest? Can you think of another you would share your life with in such a manner?"

"No," Harry admitted. He suddenly smiled. "Wow."

"My father is not-!" Anduin looked around, a sick expression on his face. "If the nobles found out, there would be-"

"Yer dad's not boinking the captain," Helix said, causing Anduin to jump as he came out of the shadows to sit by Ginny and grab a bowl of stew. "Least not yet. Trust me, you'd be able to tell. Poor bastard's wound tighter than spring. He needs to let some pressure off. Captain's not much better off really. Would do them both some good if they just relaxed. Who do you humans make such a big deal out of what is perfectly natural? Sheesh. You wouldn't see a goblin making such a fuss, let me tell you. We make a deal, bada-bing, bada-boom, done. Unless you're stupid and make a kid. Then you gotta play alimony or beat it. That's why I became a pirate, see."

"That is improper, and sin in the eyes of the Naaru," Impa sniffed. "I may not be as devoted as some, but even I know there is more than just fulfilling animal lusts when two are joined."

"Yes!" Anduin said, nodding frantically. "My father is a man of honor. He would not stain himself or...or anyone one else with such dishonorable behavior."

"Oh really?" Helix asked. He carefully edged away from Ginny. "And what would you do if Red offered to have some fun in the bushes with you?"

Ginny let out a squawk, and Helix dropped his bowl and bolted. He managed to dodge the knife she threw after him too, cackling maniacally as he ran off into the darkness.

She glared at Anduin. "This is all your fault."

"How is this my fault?" Anduin protested. "I would never-"

"Oh, am I not good enough for you now?" Ginny snarled. She slammed her bowl down and wrapped her cloak around herself. She stalked away, stooping to retrieve her knife before disappearing into the shadows.

Anduin stared helplessly after Ginny then turned to Harry and Impa, a look of helplessness on his face. "What am I supposed to do?"

"Most women accept an offering from their companions when an offense has been given," Impa stated. She eyed Harry. "This one has given me flowers and a totem carved of elekk ivory. He is well trained. Vindicator Maraad is wise."

"I didn't even know why I gave those to you," Harry muttered. "But I guess they worked."

"You think she would like flowers?" Anduin asked, turning bright red. "It would not be proper...I am not courting her, nor would I want to give her that impression. I will not marry for love, but duty."

"She is tricky, our Red," a new voice growled. Ripsnarl emerged from the shadows and squatted at the fire, sniffing at the remains of the stew. Gingerly, he lifted the pot off the fire and stuck a paw into it, licking the juices from his fur. He smacked his lips.

"She would never tell a soul, but she is fond of fine clothing. A pretty scarf, a nice hat, perhaps a new pair of socks or shoes. I know what it is she treasures. If you need advice on Red, come to me, young prince. But do not break her heart. Her life has been harder than you know. She killed her first man when she was no more than 11. A child. She has faced starvation and the prospect of the life of a dockside whore. She is tough, and strong, but still a woman. A soft warm center, if you have the courage to look for it."

"I would never harm her, by word or deed," Anduin said, his voice rough. He glanced at Harry and Impa. "I envy you. You may love whom you will. For a prince, it is not so easy. Good evening."

The next morning, Ginny found a pair of red riding boots had been slipped inside of her tent. Along with them was a note:

 _Dear Ginny,_

 _You will always be good enough for me. I can only pray that I am worthy of you._

 _Andy_

Ginny wept to read the note, and wore the boots every day.

Until they came to Angmar. Until they saw the Wrathgate.

 _Authors Note:_

 _For those unfamiliar with the WoW storyline, I highly recommend looking up the Wrathgate Cinematic on Youtube. While events in this story won't play out exactly like they do in the video, it will give you a good understanding of just what Harry is facing in the form of the Lich King._

 _And for those of you who are, you should watch the Wrathgate Cinematic because it is pure 100% kickass, and still the most hype cinematic I've ever seen in game, even if it does look like a fan made machinima these days._


	25. Please take a short survey (or else)

Some weeks previously….

"Is this really necessary?" Pizyap glanced down at the explosive harness, looking distinctly uncomfortable. It had not one, not two, not three, but a full dozen felsteel charges wired to it, despite being imp sized.

"Of course it is," Wilfred said, not bothering to look up from the forms on his clipboard. "Minion, have you perfected the resummoning spell?"

"I think so," Hermione said, adjusting Pizyap's harness as the imp nervously fidgeted. "But I haven't had a chance to test it yet. It should allow me to recall Pizyap almost immediately from the twisting nether. We'll just need a chance to test it."

"You could just dismiss me," the imp offered, trying and failing to undo the harness. "Then summon me again. Really, blowing me up first isn't required."

"Don't be silly, we have to field test your harness as well," Hermione said, shaking her head. "Now we just have to find some undead and we can begin our survey mission."

"There is a disappointing lack of undead so far," K Lee agreed, putting the last case of explosives on their mule. "How are we supposed to have a control group if the only undead we can find are the forsaken?"

"At least we could use them to test out if the Impinator 4000 works," Hermione suggested. "The apothecary camp isn't too far from here."

"An excellent place to start," K Lee agreed. "From there we can head into the Dragonblight. I've heard there are lots of undead there!"

The trio of gnomes (and very reluctant imp) departed from Westguard and headed north west up the coastline of the Fjord. Their progress was slow, for both K Lee and Hermione stopped constantly to check for new mineral deposits. They're tried to search Whisperwind Gorge, but because it drove everyone who entered it insane they had not been able to find anything. Not because they hadn't tried to get in, but because the already insane prospectors had kept stealing their ore and driving them off. Hermione hadn't even minded the maddening whispers: it had been nice to have someone else to talk to.

While traveling, the group found only deposits of cobalt ore. While somewhat useful, it lacked any real special properties aside from being a key ingredient in several explosive recipes. It was interesting enough to make several new varieties of bombs (much to Pizyap's growing consternation) but ultimately did not forward their Social Explosiveering research project very much. Hermione did try to interview several shovel horns to collect some base data, but the animals caught one whiff of the scent of fel corruption on her and scattered to the wind.

And so, it was with little research data that the trio arrived at the Royal Apothecary Society forward base camp after two days of traveling. Most people would have been disturbed at the blighted soil that surrounded the camp, horrified by the twisted and diseased corpses that littered the ground nearby, and ran in terror at the gibbets displaying the tortured remains of several vrykul. The gnomes and Hermione just saw an excellent research opportunity.

Not even bothering to hide their approach, the three waltz right up to the camp with their pack mule in tow, much to the astonishment of the forsaken guardians.

"Come no further, scum!" an apothecary with a metal mask and a plaguespreader on his back warned the group. "We are conducting important research here! So unless you want to be my test subjects for my plague strain, begon!"

Instead of fleeing like any sensible being, Hermione and K Lee's faces lite up with delight.

"Really? You're giving out free samples?" K Lee asked excitedly.

"How much can we have? Is there some sort of limit?" Hermione demanded, reaching forward for the plague spreader on the apothecaries back.

"I-what? No!" the apothecary jerked back, holding the nozzle of his spreader above his head as Hermione tried to take it from him. "I meant I'd expose you to the plague and melt your flesh from your bones! Please, this is very important for my research into plague virulence!"

"Oh, well, I'd have to advise against that," Hermione said, lowering her hands and taking out a clipboard and quill. "Any attempt to disrupt our research efforts will result in a sudden and unfortunate demise on the part of anyone so impinging on the scientific process."

"I have already died once! I fear not the grave," the forsaken sneered, lowing his weapon. "And I would never interfere with the scientific process! To be an apothecary is to be at the forefront of scientific research."

"Truly?" K Lee asked, whipping out her own clipboard."Have you lost all fear of death? On a scale of 1 to 5 with one being an extreme fear and 5 being a complete lack of fear, how would you rate your fear of death?"

The apothecary scratched his head in confusion. "Um, well, I mean, that was a tad hyperbolic on my part I suppose. I guess if you're really asking for the sake of science, I suppose I'd have to say it's more of a two."

"What about when you were alive? That is, before you were resurrected as an undead. How would you rate your fear then?" Hermione prompted. "And for legal reasons, I must inform you that this survey is confidential, no personally identifying information will be retained in our records or sold. This information is to better understand the state of unlife/life and how explosiveering can help with the transition between the two." 

"Oh, explosiveering? Hmm, I wonder if that's a course offered at the Royal Apothecary College?" the Forsaken mused. "Well, I would say when I was a pathetic human, my fear of death was really around a four, possibly a five."

"We need you to be certain sir. Was it a four, or a five?" Hermione demanded.

"Ah, put me down as a four. I think it was more concerned of embarrassing myself in front of my friends and family really," the apothecary admitted.

"Apothecary Grick!" an angry voice shouted. "What in the Dark Ladies name are you doing? Dispose of these interlopers at once!"

A new forsaken came around the corner, this one in the guard of a Death Guard. She was holding up a wicked looking sword and advancing on the gnomes with a menacing gleam in her eyes.

"Oh but Bertha, these are just some fellow researchers doing a scientific survey. Surely I can kill them after they've finished their research? After all, what are we in Northrend to do but further advance our own science of plague research?" Grink asked, a pleading tone in his voice. "This Explosiveering sounds very promising. Imagine if we could combine it with-"

Wilfred stepped forward, flexing his tiny muscles. "Ma'am, I must warn you, before you stands the mightiest summoner of demons ever to walk Azeroth, none other than Wilfred Fizzlbanks, Master of the Dark Arts and Doctorate of Demonology!"

"Oh, my Phd is in Epidemiology!" Grick said excitedly. "Tell me, did you manage to secure any research grants for your project? Let me tell you, it's been positively cut throat at the College lately, what with all the new ideas for our modified plague competing. It took me a full year to secure all my funding."

"We did receive a grant from the Gnomish College of Explosions and Other Engineering," Hermione said proudly. "I helped write the grant myself. Pizyap, if that Death Guard takes one more step, blow her up."

"Do I really have to?" Pizyap whined. "Can't you just like melt her face with curses or something?"

The Death Guard snarled and sprang forward, and despite his best efforts, Pizyap found himself jumping to meet her.

"NoooooOooooo!"

BOOM!

When the dust settled, nothing but a pair of boots with tibia's sticking out of them remained. Of the imp, there was no sign by a faint whiff of sulfur."

"Oh, that was a rather impressive explosion. I especially like your use of a suicide bomber to deliver the payload. I wonder if such an apparatus would have any use as a plague delivery vehicle," Grick mused, dropping his plaguespreader to take out a pair of spectacles and some parchment as he furiously wrote down notes.

"Now to see if if the ritual will work," Hermione said. Taking a deep breath, she drew out a soul crystal she'd harvested from one of the insane prospectors (he hadn't looked much the worse for wear with his soul suckd out anyway, and besides Hermione and some lingering anger issues in regards to dwarves). She quickly drew a ritual circle in the ground, and began the ritual. "01100110 01110010 01101111 01101101 00100000 01010011 01010101 01001101 01001101 01001111 01001110 01011111 01010100 01000001 01000010 01001100 01000101 00100000 01110011 01100101 01101100 01100101 01100011 01110100 00100000 01001001 01001101 01010000 00100000 01110011 01110000 01100101 01100011 01101001 01100110 01111001 01011111 01101111 01100010 01101010 01100101 01100011 01110100 00100000 01010000 01001001 01011010 01011001 01000001 01010000."

"Ah, excellent use of SQL," Grick commented. "Personally I prefer Java Quick Summons."

A purple void appeared, and a moment later Pizyap popped out, screaming hysterically. This continued for several moments after the imp appeared, with poor Pizyap standing rigidly straight with his hands over his eyes.

"Pizyap? Pizyap! PIZYAP! Ugh, imp, I order you to be silent!"

Pizyap immediately stop screaming, though he did start shivering and tugging at his ears with his talons.

"Well, did it work?" Hermione prompted.

The imp swallowed. "If...if I tell you it didn't, that I'm not Pizyap, will you make me put on the harness again?"

"Yes," Hermione said.

"Then I am Pizyap, and you won't make be blow myself up again?" the imp asked hopefully.

In response, Wilfred gleefully strapped a new explosive vest to the imp, who whimpered in fear.

Just then a new group of forsaken ran over, bearing plague spreaders and vials of acid. "Grick, what in the Dark Ladies name is going on?"

"Ah, Anastasia, Celina, Samuel, these are some fellow researchers here to invent new and creative ways to destroy their enemies! I've just been taking a survey to help them with their research project," Grick explained.

The other apothecaries stopped, eyeing the crater worriedly. "What happened to Death Guard Bertha?"

"She was standing in the way of scientific progress," K Lee said mournfully. "Sadly, for the good of the future of Social Explosiveering, she had to be removed."

"Social Explosiveering?" Anastasia asked. "Is that anything like my research into social engineering to get long incubation period plagues to spread farther in small communities?"

"Oh, I've always been interested in explosiveering!" Samuel declared. "I bet we could combine that with my new plague shells to unleash a devastating plague upon our foes!"

Soon, all four apothecaries were happily filling out survey cards and sharing their own ideas for the future of explosiveering.

"I must say, the concept of using social explosiveering to ease people into the transition into unlife is a very marketable one," Grick mused when it was time for the gnomes to depart. "Really, you should come to the Undercity sometime and present your research into this field at the Royal Apothecary Society. I'm sure Lady Sylvanas and Grand Apothecary Putress will be most interested in your findings."

"Why, if you're at the Wrathgate in two weeks time, I'm certain he'd be happy to hear whatever research you've uncovered so far," Celina opined.

Samuel nodded. "Of course, you do have to promise that you wouldn't interfer with his own research project in testing the plagues effectiveness on both mortals and Scourge."

"We will always honor the honest scientific endeavours of all those who pave brave new pathways forward," Hermione assured the apothecaries. "Are you certain that we can't have just a small sample of plague?"

Celina shook her head sadly. "We're still under an NDA until Putress lifts the ban. But I'm certain he'd be more than happy to give you as much as you want after he lifts it on his attack on our allies and enemies alike."

"Sounds like an excellent research opportunity!" K Lee declared. "Thank you so much for your efforts in assisting our research project. Have a wonderful day!"

The research group left, waving goodbye merrily as the stepped over the scattered remains of the apothecaries former friend.

"Dark Lady watch over you!" Grick called as the group left. He smiled, tapping the rotting remains of his chin. "You know, we really must kill a few gnomes and raise them as parodies of their formers selves. I think they could really energize the field of Plague Research."

/\/\\\/\/\/\/\/\/\\\/\/\/\/\\\/\\\/\/\\\/\/

The Wrathgate was through the Dragonblight, and so into the Dragonblight Hermione and her companions ventured. Once they left the Howling Fjord, there were far more opportunities to interview the undead, much to Pizyap's consternation. Their first encounter was at the Forgotten Shore, the sight where Arthas had burned his troops ships and framed the mercenaries he had hired for doing so. There had been a slaughter there, and the spirits of those slain were bound there as ghosts.

Sadly, ghosts turned out to be rather poor at taking surveys. For one thing, they couldn't hold a pen to fill them in, and for another they didn't seem to be able to understand the living. Hermione would attempt to interview a spectral footman, only for them to scream something incoherent at her and attempt to kill her. Pizyap was exploded several times, but that was largely ineffective at destroying the ghosts. Draining their souls, on the other hand, proved highly effective, and very stimulating.

"Not quite like draining the soul of the living, I think," Hermione remarked as she stood over the pool of ectoplasm that had once been a spectral knight. "Still, it makes me all tingly, and gives plenty of power. Not stale like a regular undead soul at all."

"Fantastic. Can we stop blowing me up though? I'd be better of chucking fire at them," Pizyap said with a heavy sigh.

"Oh, I don't think so. Fire could set off the explosives!" K Lee said. "We didn't fireproof them."

Pizyap flinched, and started twitching.

"Best move on," Hermione sighed. "We haven't gotten a single survey."

Next, they found a party of ghouls. After killing several by blasting them apart with shadow bolts, Hermione managed to rip the legs off two, and attempted to administer the survey. One ghoul slobbered on the pencil and ate the paper, while the other just kept screaming and crawling forward with its hands to attempt to bite Wilfred.

"It's like they're not intelligent at all," Hermione mused. "Just beasts. They don't even really have souls to drain. More like a connection that can be severed."

"We'll just have to classify these as magical constructs," K Lee declared. "Let's move on."

Fortunately, next Hermione located a group of Scarlet Crusaders, remnants of the old Lordaeron military that had vowed to eradicate the undead. These days most of them had folded into the Argent Crusade, but a few maniacs still refused to join Highlord Fordring, claiming he wasn't willing to destroy all undead, such as the Knights of the Ebon Blade or the Forsaken who fought against the Scourge.

Sadly, initially the Scarlet's turned out to be rather opposed to taking a survey.

"Warlocks and demons! You must be allies of the undead!" the captain said when Hermione and the gnomes approached. "Slay them all!"

The Scarlets roared and charged, only for Pizyap to scream in agony and explode himself, killing several. Hermione rapidly began to hex and curse the remaining Scarlets who were dazed by the explosion, spreading plague, blindness, madness, and lighting a few on fire with her mind. She channeled the captive souls in her belt pouch, using them to fuel the dark power of her spells and grinning at the power she wielded. She knew it was probably wrong to kill living people, but the Scarlets had tried to kill her first.

Once only a few survivors were left, and those weak with plague and shaking in fear from the curses laid upon them, Hermione walked around and handed out surveys for them.

"What...what is this?" the captain asked, trembling as he picked up the pencil and paper.

"This is a survey conducted by the Gnomeregan College of Explosiveers to learn about your state of unlife," Hermione said helpfully. "As you're not undead, you will be acting as the control group. Please, do you best to answer each question honestly."

The captain blinked, scratching at the weeping sores that now covered his body. "You'll...you'll let us go if we fill out the surveys?"

Hermione beamed at him. "Of course! I already drained the souls of several of your men, so I hope you've learned your lesson!"

"Monster! I'll never give in!" the captain snarled, standing on shaky legs and swinging at Hermione with his sword.

She blasted him with a bolt of shadow, then drained his soul as he slumped over. He was dead in moments. Hermione turned to the other survivors. "Now, will we be having any more problems?"

"NO!" the four remaining Scarlets quickly filled out their surveys and handed them in.

"Thank you for participating in our Social Explosiveering survey!" K Lee said brightly. She handed each of the Scarlets a small piece of candy. "Have a wonderful day!"

"Well, this certainly was the most productive that we've been so far," Hermione remarked as she examined the surveys. "I think these will make an excellent control group. We'd best be heading to the Wrathgate now. I think we should survey the living human and orcish troops before they're killed and raised as undead. That would make an excellent data baseline."

"Good idea!" K Lee agreed. "We might even get lucky and get some plague samples of our own to test! I wonder how they'd work with the thought outsourcer...I still haven't found any ore but cobalt and titanium and those just don't have the right properties."

"Ugh. I just don't want to blow up again," Pizyap complained.

"Silence minion!" Wilfred ordered. "You are bound to serve your mistress!'

"Yeah, yeah," Pizyap muttered, hopping up onto the mule. "Damn engineers."

"Here," Hermione said, handing Pizyap a candy. She patted the imp on the head and smiled at him. "You've been a great help! Thanks for saving us back there. Have a treat." 

Pizyap looked at the lollipop in his talons, then back at Hermione as she eagerly discussed interviewing men who would die and be raised as undead. "Eh. Guess she's still the best mistress I've had." The imp popped the candy in his mouth and tried to get comfortable despite the explosive vest. It wasn't like this was the first time he'd been blasted to bits.

\/\/\/\/\\\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/

Everything had been made ready. The barrels of plague were loaded, the apothecaries in position with their catapults.

"Soon. Very soon. Both the living and the dead shall tremble before the might of the Forsaken!" Grand Apothecary Putress growled, clenching his rotting fist around a vial of the modified plague. "All these fools shall-"

"Excuse me sir, but do you have to time to take a survey?"

Putress paused, glancing around to see an imp, a human teen, and two gnomes.

"What is the meaning of this?" Putress demanded.

"Hi!" the female gnome said brightly. "I'm Social Expolsiveer K Lee Smallfry! This is my assistant, Hermione Granger. We're here today to conduct a survey regarding your satisfaction with your current state of unlife as a part of our broader survey to determine beings satisfaction with their current state of life/unlife."

"I...what?" Putress asked, utterly baffled.

The human teen stepped forward, smoothing a few stray strands of frizzy hair away. "Hello, I'm Hermione Granger, intern for the Gnomish Department of Social Explosiveering. This survey is confidential, no personally identifying information will be retained in our records or sold. This information is to better understand the state of unlife/life and how explosiveering can help with the transition between the two. First, I need some demographic information. Are you alive, or unalive?"

"Foolish girl, I am Grand Apothacary Putress of the Forsaken! I am here to unleash the New Plague upon the Horde, Alliance, and Scourge!"

"Oh we know," Hermonie said, waving a hand dismissively. "Well be sure to interview the newly arisen undead. We already interviewed the living troops, and we'll be doing a double blind study to see how they feel both before and after their transformation into the undead. Now, as a forsaken I'm going to put you down as 'unalive.' For how long were you alive, prior to becoming unalive?"

"I...I was 38," Putress said, mystified as the human scribbled something down.

"And what was your race prior to unlife?"

"Um, human, from Lordaeron. Aren't' you concerned I'll just kill you and expose you to the plague?"

"Very good, very good. And how long have you been unalive? And do note that any hostilities against us will result in your immediate transfer over to ex-unlife via the massive bomb my imp is carrying."

For the first time, Putress noticed that the imp was wearing some sort of explosive vest.

"Pal, trust me, you are just better off answering the questions and moving on. I've already blown up three times today and let me tell ya, while it sucks for me, it REALLY blows for you."

"Oh. Er, you're not going to try and stop me from unleashing the plague upon the deserving?"

"Of course not!" K Lee said, horrified. "That would be a gross violation of the scientific method! As scientists and explosiveers, we must remain neutral observers!"

"Or incendiary ones," Hermione added. "Really, there isn't any middle ground here. Now, for the next section, I'm going to ask you to rate your experiences on a scale of 1-5, with one being Very Satisfied, 2 being Somewhat Satisfied, 3 being Neutral, 4 being Somewhat Unsatisfied, and 5 being Very Unsatisfied. Do you understand this rating scale, or do you wish for me to repeat it?"

Putress eyed the imp, who seemed to be twitching slightly. "Er, I understand it."

"Excellent. How would you rate your experiences while living?"

"Um, a 2, I suppose. I remember being vaguely happy most of the time."

"And what about the transition to unlife? How would you rate it?"

"Well dying was certainly painful, so a 5 on that. And coming back to this wretched existence... another 5. This is why I must spread my vengeance!"

Hermione nodded, carefully recording the answers on her sheet. "Good to know. And how would you rate your experiences in unlife?"

"Well it is a daily torment where I can feel nothing but pain, suffering, and a desire to destroy my enemies. So, well, the torment and all is a 5, but getting to slay all who still revel in life in mockery of me...that's a 1."

"Hmm. We'll just average that out to a 3. And finally, to ensure that you are a real unliving individual answering these questions and not a magical construct, please answer 4 to this question."

"Four?" Putress said, confused.

"Thank you very much for your time," Hermione said, snapping shut the folder she'd been writing in and smiling at Putress. "The Gnomish Social Explosiveering Society thanks you for your time and responses. Please, have a wonderful day, and don't forget to contact the Social Explosiveering Society for all your social explosion needs."

"What exactly do social explosiveers do?" Putress asked, still confused.

"Mostly blow people up," K Lee admitted. "We're working on that though. Soon, we hope to have an entire range of marketable social explosions, perhaps as a part of a program to transition from life to unlife. Now, we'll just go to a safe distance while you unleash your own social explosives upon your foes so we can record additional data."

"Bye!" Hermione said, waving cheerily as she and her suicide imp hurried away to the shelter of somenearbye rocks. "Good look with wrecking vengeance and all that!"

Authors Note:

I think we should kick the Forsaken out of the Horde and boot the gnomes out of the Alliance, then put them together in their own twisted evil faction.

Next chapter: The Wrathgate.


	26. Fates Betrayal

Angmar. The Wrathgate. A maw of saronite and bone 100 feet high, the only weak point in a wall of ice and stone that was thicker than a ship length, baring the only pass between Dragonblight and Icecrown. The last physical barrier between Arthas and the might of the mortal races of Azeroth.

Harry had planned not to stay, but after finding Ginny he felt compelled to remain with Ron's sister and keep her safe as best he could until he could find his friend and reunite them. It was foolish he knew, as Ginny traveled in the company of the King of Stormwind and his heir and had the full strength of the Alliance around him. Ginny was safe, and yet, Harry could not go further.

He stood at the top of Fordragon hold, watching the Wrathgate. For now it was silent, dark stone that sucked in the light, with nothing moving about it. That was an illusion, Harry knew. Even from here, he could sense the dark presence of thousands of undead, and powerful ones at that. Bones littered the ground before the Wrathgate, but despite the long bombardment from the engines of the Horde and Alliance, those bones still held dark power.

"Harry?"

Without turning, Harry shifted so that Impa could come to stand beside him. She rested her hand atop of his, and Harry couldn't help but smile. True, they were young yet, far too young to be wed, but he couldn't help but imagine his future with Impa. A future where they were bonded before the Naaru as man and wife. An insane prospect in some ways, but one that felt so right. They might be from different worlds, and even different species, but the love Harry felt was enough to surmount any obstacle.

"Do you think we should join the assault?" Harry asked, looking over at Impa.

She met his gaze for a moment, then looked to the Wrathgate. "That is where we shall find our answers, yes? The Argent Crusade pushes into Icecrown as well from another front. If we succeed here, we can meet Highlord Fordring on the steps of the Citadel and put an end to these vile undead."

"Yes," Harry agreed. "And we cannot abandon Ginny and the others. The Vindicarate are here to fight beside the Alliance."

The day of the assault dawned. All throughout the night, Alliance siege tanks belched flame and fury, and Horde catapults hurled stone death. Word had come that Garrosh Hellscream, fresh from a victory over a dark god, and come bearing a terrible weapon mighty enough to slay the Lich King himself. And with King Varian present to lead the Alliance forces, both sides were eager to show their might and claim the glory of storming the Wrathgate themselves.

Harry formed up with the Vindicators, which were in the van. As heavy dragoons and warriors of the Light, they were to form up around the King and Highlord Bolvar and lead the assault upon Angmar. With them were human paladins of the Silver Hand, bearing sacred tomes and wielding their own weapons of the Light. They welcomed the draenei with enthusiasm, and showed a grim determination to visit justice upon the Kinslayer.

A cry went up from the soldiers. "The King! Highlord Bolvar!"

"For Lordaeron!"

"For the Alliance!"

The King appeared, flanked by the Highlord and by Captain Vancleef, who wore a red bandana about her neck this day, and dark leather armor. Prince Anduin and Ginny were in the rear, ready to bring reinforcements through the breach once it had been made.

The king raised his sword. All at once, the siege tanks fell silent, and soon the Horde catapults ceased firing as well. In the quiet, Harry held his breath, his body tense, his sword in his hands.

"For the Alliance!" the King shouted, and with a roar the entire van rushed forward, down the slope from Fordragon Hold to the Wrathgate itself. Undead rose up from beneath the stone and snow, but they were no match for the fury of the paladin charge. The first wave of undead were swept aside in a surge of holy power, with only dust to show where they had been. But as they advanced, the Wrathgate cracked open like the jaws of a great beast. From within emerged undead vrykul, giants over 10 feet tall with frost riming their armor and weapons. Their warcry was fierce and primal, and their counter charge so brutal that they crushed the first to meet them beneath their feet.

Harry fell back, stunned at the fury of their defense, but he had taken no more than a step back with Varian and Bolvar charged together. Varian had two shining swords in his hands, and Bolvar had his shield raised to protect his king. Half a dozen vrykul clashed with the the two men, the giants head and shoulders taller than the two warriors of the Alliance. Axes met swords, but it was not the humans who fell back. Varian sheared through the weapons of his foes, surging forward in a fury and raining three blows down for everyone he deflected. Bolvar's shield smashed against the body of his foes and his sword struck like the weight of a falling boulder. The Vrykul fell back for a moment, their own charge stymied.

More giants filled the gap though, and though Harry and the others pressed forward with all their strength, even the king and Bolvar began to be forced back by the fury of the enemy. Just when it seemed the would be forced into a desperate retreat, horns sounded to their right.

There was a howling of wolves, and then Horde wolfriders burst into the fray, Garrosh Hellscream and Dranosh Saurfang at their head. Garrosh bore twin axes, one made of the stuff of creation, the other infused with the power of the Light. He rode down a vrykul, then leapt from his wolf, his axes spreading death wherever he went. Beside him came Dranosh, bearing the armor and axe of his father. Though he bore only a single weapon, his battlefury was so great that his foes fell like trees, and he stacked their corpses like cordwood to a height nearly equal to that of Garrosh.

"I was wondering if you would show up!" Bolvar called to the orcs as they fought forward to where he and the king stood.

"I couldn't let the Alliance have all the fun today," Dranosh laughed, and with a single cleave of his axe felled three foes.

"This day belongs to the Horde!" Garrosh bellowed. "Once more we shall free this world!"

"Just try to keep up, pup," Varian snarled.

Though they were bitter rivals, that day Varian Wrynn, King of Stormwind, and Garrosh Hellscream, Chief of the Warsong, fought side by side. No foe could approach them, and no ally could keep pace with them. Even Dranosh and Bolvar could only guard the backs of the two titans of battle, the paragons of their people who carried the hope of the future in their blades.

At last, no Scourge moved, and the four leaders approached the Wrathgate.

"Arthas!" Varian shouted. "Once, I loved you like a brother! But this day, I come on behalf of your father, the man I loved, and of the people of Lordaeron! Kinslayer! Come! Face me, coward, and face the justice you have so long escaped!"

For a moment, there was only silence, and the howling of the bitter wind. Then, a chill entered into the heart of Harry, and of every man and woman upon the field. Even the king took half a hesitant step backwards as the Wrathgate opened once more.

The air, already bitter cold, seemed to freeze so deeply it did not move. The bones of the dead quaked, and many reformed, rising as the Kinslayer stepped forth from his fortress.

Arthas. The Lich King. The Crownless King of Lordaeron, and the Master of the Frozen Throne. In his hands be bore the runeblade Frostmourne, which glowed with an eerie blue light. Upon his head was a wicked crown, and his armor was dark with profane icons. His tread was like that of doom itself, echoing in the sudden silence. His face was hidden in shadows, but his eyes glowed with a blue light, the frozen light of death itself.

 **YOU SPEAK OF JUSTICE. OF COWARDICE. I WILL SHOW YOU THE JUSTICE OF THE GRAVE. AND THE TRUE MEANING OF FEAR.**

"I have slain fear and conquered a god!" Garrosh roared. "What hope have you?"

The orc sprang forward, his axes whirling. Arthas raised Frostmourne, and the axes stopped dead when they impacted the blade with a hollow clang. Garrosh grunted in surprise, and stepped back, slicing both axes in a deadly arch. Frostmourne sang through the air, and the crystal axe shattered. Garrosh did not give up, taking Worldrender in two hands and screaming in fury as he brought it down with all his might upon Arthas.

The Lich king raised a mailed fist, grabbing the axe by the head. The metal squealed as frost coated it, and the orc gasped in astonishment.

"No!" Varian sprang forward, joining his two blades into one, but with a flick of Frostmourne the Lich King conjured up a wall of ice, which slammed into the king and froze him in place while blocking both Bolvar and Dranosh from coming forward.

"You...I do not fear you," Garrosh growled, leaning forward to sneer at the Lich King as he slowly drove the Kinslayer's hand back with Worldrender. "I will slay you as I slew Yogg Saron, and-"

 **FOOL. ONLY THE DEAD KNOW NO FEAR.**

As if it were a striking viper, Frostmourne flickered up. Garrosh let out a breath of air, slumping to one knee as the runeblade pierced his body. Dropping his axe, Hellscream staggered, his hand holding him up. He struggled to rise, his off hand scrabbling for Worldrender to bring his blade down upon the Lich King one final time. It was for nought. Arthas withdrew Frostmourne. With a flick of his wrist, the Runeblade glowed, and with no sound, the soul of Garrosh Hellscream passed from his body, into the blade. The orc fell into the snow with a soft, wet sound, and did not rise.

The Lich King turned to Varian as a swarm of undead erupted from Angmar, pushing back the forces of both Alliance and Horde as they struggled to reach their leaders.

"You. Will. Pay," Varian growled, struggling to free himself from the grip of the ice.

The Lich King shook his head once.

 **HERE, VARIAN, I AM KING. HERE, ALL MUST PAY THEIR DEBTS. AND THE DUE TO THE KING OF THE DEAD IS THAT OF THE GRAVE.**

Varian closed his eyes as Frostmourne came for his soul, unable to move, but unwilling to bend.

From above, a figure crashed down, shield held high, sword raised in defiance. A bolt of light came from on high, a glow so bright it drove back the darkness of the Lich King as a demoness descended bearing the Hammer of Kings upon wings of light.

"My King, forgive me," Llane panted. The warrior's shield groaned as Frostmourne was repeled by the barrier. "I hope I am not to late."

Varian's eyes snapped open. "Llane!"

"Oy, Lich Bitch, suck on this!"

Two mages sprang forward, one hurling ice as the other raised a glowing orb of flames. A blazing fire elemental sprang into being, and Arthas took a step backwards, shielding himself with one hand and raising Frostmourne in a warding gesture. The elemental melted the ice, and Varian stood, shoulder to shoulder with Llane, two mages, and a demoness.

 **WHAT IS THIS?**

The Lich King's eyes darted back and forth between the newcomers.

 **IT MATTERS NOT. IN THE END, ALL SHALL SERVE.**

"This ends here and now, Arthas," Llane growled. "Rosalind! Do not let him escape!"

Rosalind raised Val'anyr, and a barricade of light sprang up, separating Arthas from the Scourge still coming from the Wrathgate, and preventing all retreat.

"Hey Reth, you still hungry boy?" Georgina asked, licking her lips as she glared at Arthas.

Her brother waved his staff, and a water elemental with a jade mask came forth. "It is time to cleanse this world. Fate begins anew here."

Varian looked to the strangers around him, then grinned viciously at Arthas. "You have claimed your last soul, Arthas."

The Lich King stepped forward, swinging Frostmourne as the four before him surged forward. Before they could clash, a barrel crashed between them, spewing forth noxious fumes.

With a cry of alarm, Rosalind dissolved the barrier blocking Arthas, conjuring up between her and the cloud of plague.

"No!" Llane shouted. "No, this should not be! She cannot have turned already!"

From above came terrible laughter, and all, even Arthas, turned to look up.

A robbed figure stood above them, arms crossed across his chest as he laughed, his face hidden behind a wicker mask. "Did you think we had forgotten? Did you think we had forgiven? Witness now, the terrible vengeance of the Forsaken!"

A wave of catapults rolled up to the cliff, each carrying barrels of plague. The figure raised his hands, then dropped them.

"Damn you, witch!" Llane hissed.

 **SYLVANIS.**

Lich King seemed to tremble with rage, his eyes blazing with blue fire.

Just as the catapults began to fire, a screaming imp was flung high in the air. It exploded in a great ball of flame, knocking the first catapult askew, and causing it to fire off course. Several barrels collided in mid air, and Putress roared in anger, turning. The catapults tried to reload, but a blazing figure of light bearing a runed blade crashed into the apothecaries, a raging panther and a human girl who hurled green fire at its side. Out of nowhere a bronze dragon appeared, roaring in rage as it blasted the forsaken with its breath.

 **THIS ISN'T OVER!**

"No!" Llane cried as Arthas slunk back through the Wrathgate, nursing his wounds from the plague. "Rosalind, do not let him escape!"

"If I drop this barrier than the king, your-KING will die!" the demoness hissed.

Llane watched helplessly as Arthas retreated, the Wrathgate sealing him beyond the reach of hsi foes. The strange warrior glared up at the retreating catapults, then turned to Varian. "Your majesty, we must fall back and regroup. The assault has failed."

/\\\/\\\/\/\/\/\/\/\\\/\/\/\/\/

Hermione had just scrambled behind the rocks when a growl came behind her. She spun just in time to see a giant purple cat leap atop her and pin her to the ground with its forepaws. Hermione desperately tried to cast a spell, any spell, but the creature's claws dug into her shoulders and she cried out in pain, unable to focus.

"Give me a reason, traitor. Just one reason, why I should not kill you here, now," the cat whispered.

"I...I was just conducting research," Hermione whimpered, staring up into the all too human eyes of the cat. "I just wanted to see what would happen if the plague is used. Does it change the personality those it raises? Are people happier being undead?"

The cat hissed, its long fangs reaching for Hermione's exposed throat. "That's always your answer. For research. To make people love you. But it never works. And now you die, warlock."

"Oi, bud, I got one good reason ya shouldn't rip her throat out. Explosive vest or not, she's still the best mistress I've ever had. So please, back off before I turn us all into one big crater."

The cat growled and spun. Hermione saw Pizyap grinning down at them, his talons on the detonator for his harness. The imp winked at Hermione. "Plus, as a bonus, I get to be the one to kill her too. So make your move pal."

"My death would be worth it to put an end to traitorous filth like the two of you!" the cat roared.

"Hermione! What's happening?" K Lee asked, peering over a rock. She saw the cat and let out a yelp. "Oh! Get away from her you filthy beast!"

"Do you wish to die as well, gnome? You are as much responsible for this girls failings as anyone! Come closer, that we all might die together!"

"Pizyap?" Hermione asked, her voice tiny. "It...it doesn't hurt too much, does it?"

The imps expression softened. "Only for an instant, sweet heart. And then there's no more pain, forever."

Hermione nodded, closing her eyes and bracing herself, tears running down her face.

"Unless you get sent straight to hell though," Pizyap continued. "And you've probably devoured enough souls that that's what'll happen. Course, they might decide they like you there and turn you into a proper demoness, but ya never know. Cross your fingers!"

"You should have stopped with the no more pain bit," Hermione whispered, but a small smile spread on her face.

"I'll kill you all!" the cat snarled, then let out a sudden squeak. Weight lifted from Hermione's chest, and she cracked open one eye to see a furious draenei standing over her with a blazing sword of light, her hoove kicking away the cat. Hermione's attacker picked himself up from the ground a short distance away, snarling at the draenei.

"Jasyn! Control yourself! We are here to stop the Forsaken and slay the Lich King, not for her!" the draenei barked.

"Damn you, Midna! Why not kill them all? That girl is already a warlock and a traitor. If you and Lucy can fight your own damned demons, why not me as well?"

"Because she is yet innocent of the crimes you see in her future," Midna stated calmly. "Now, we must be swift, Putress will launch his assault at any moment."

"Damn Putress!" Jasyn snarled, circling around Midna and Hermione. "Why should I care if the Lich King falls here or at Icecrown? It wasn't he who slew my mother! And yours, lest you forget!"

"I forget nothing," Midna said. "Now, Jasyn! We have no time! Harry Potter is down there, as is Varian Wrynn. If we let them fall, how can you ever hope that fate will change at all?"

"Harry's down there?" Hermione blurted. "But...but I thought-"

"You thought they were some faceless drones that would die?" Jasyn sneered, his ears laying flat on his skull. "No! They all have sons and daughters, husbands and wives, mothers and fathers. Each life has meaning, and you would throw them away to sate your curiosity and thirst for power! You would sell the very soul of your own blood for your own gain! Betray those who you once called friend in a twisted attempt to bind them to you!"

Hermione clutched at her pouch, where several shards bearing the souls of those she had harvested on her travels lay. Most were animals or undead, but there were a few poor Scarlet Crusaders who had gotten in her way in that pouch. Tears welled up, and she looked to K Lee.

"Well, I mean, I suppose we could not be impartial observers, just this one time," the gnome admitted. "We've...maybe gone a bit too far this time."

Hermione sat up, and let out a gasp. Putress and his catapults were already at the edge of the cliff, ready to fire. She shouted, grabbed Pizyap, and hurled him with all her might. "Don't let Harry die!" she pleaded.

The imp exploded just over the first catapult, ruining most of the assault so the plague barrels fell upon the scourge lines instead of all across the battlefield. Hermione channeled her pain, her rage, and her sense of sorrow and loss. Her body ignited with fel fury, and darkness consumed her. With a cry of pain she rushed forward, hurling fel flames and casting dark and terrible curses upon the forsaken and their siege weapons. Midna raced ahead, blazing with light as her sword hewed down their foes. To Hermione's astonishment, a dragon popped into being above the catapults, blasting them with its breath and raking with its claws.

Putress cried out in fury, but fled. Jasyn tried to pursue, but a dozen death guards came for him. He fell back, snarling and raking the air with his claws.

"Taste gnomish engineering, fools!" K Lee shouted, and fired her Critter Maker 9000. Several death guards turned into cockroaches and maggots, which Jayson gleefully squashed. Wilfred popped up, summoning a Void Walker that threw itself at the remainder, scattering them. For her part Hermione stayed with Midna, focusing on destroying the catapults and the barrels of plague. After a few minutes, they stopped, all their foes slain and the plague destroyed.

Hermione fell to her knees, clutching at the ground and weeping. "I'm so sorry! I just...I wanted to know! I wanted to have a purpose!"

She felt a hand on her shoulder, and looked up to see Midna crouching beside her. "It is well, Hermione Granger. You are not alone. Abandon that which is evil. Seek the path of the Light. None are so far lost to the shadow that they cannot find the Light. I will see you again, one day. I hope to embrace you as my friend, not as my foe."

With that, Midna walked away, pushing a very angry night elf before her.

"We will come back!" Jasyn snarled. "And if you stray, even for a moment, I will have your blood! For the souls of those you have damned, Hermione Granger, I will have your blood!"

The great bronze dragon rose up above the cliff, bearing four others. Midna and Jasyn leapt aboard, and then they were gone in a shower of sands. Hermione watched, lost in a daze. Then she let out a cry. "Pizyap!"

Frantically she dug through her pouch. She had burned through most of the souls she had harvested, but there were a handful of small crystals left. Desperately she drew upon the souls with blood that she drew from a cut on her hand. A moment later, Pizyap slumped out of his summoning portal.

"Ugh. Alright, alright, can we stop with the surveys for just one day? Ugh, my aching-"

"I release you!" Hermione sobbed, picking up Pizyap and clutching her to her bosom. She wept bitter tears, rocking back and forth with the confused imp in her arms. "I release you from our contract! Oh, Pizyap, I am so, so sorry. You're...you're not just a bit of magic I can force to do what I want. You're real! You...you should be my friend." She set the imp down, rubbing at her eyes.

"I've been...I've been so lost, Pizyap. I treated you like a slave, like a simple wand or spell that was just a tool. But you're not. You think, you have feelings, you should be free. I...I'm sorry. If you want to kill me...I understand. I'll even let you put the vest on."

Pizyat sat dumbfounded blinking up at Hermione. Slowly, he raised a finger, a small fireball appearing on one talon. Hermione closed her eyes, knowing this was the end. She deserved it. Everything was her fault. She felt the sting of the flame and whimpered, but prepared for more.

"Huh. Ain't that somethin'. You really did release me. How about that." A moment later, Pizyap hopped up onto Hermione's shoulder. "Alright, alright, snap out of it. Sheesh. Look, it's alright, OK? You ain't the first warlock that's made me kill myself for their own amusement. At least you let me do so in style, eh? Eh? Hey, cheer up. I meant what I said. You're still the best mistress I've ever had. So no more explosions, right?"

Hermione turned her head, looking at Pizyap. "You...you forgive me?"

The imp shrugged. "I'm pure evil sweetheart. Don't think I can forgive. Let's just say that I see the advantages to having a mistress who don't see me as expendable. Look, I'll stick around, see? Just...no more vest, alright? I'll steal your soul or whatever some other time."

Hermione nodded desperately, then looked forlornly at the ruined catapults. "I suppose our research is ruined. Social Explosiveering just...it doesn't have a future at all. We'll have to find a new project."

K Lee nodded glumly, and Wilfred let out a heavy sigh, sitting atop the burned corpse of one of the Forsaken. "I suppose we will, at that. We could still work on the Thought Outsourcer."

"Maybe." Hermione shrugged. "I don't know. What if that's evil?"

"Who cares?" Pizyap laughed. "You can do whatever you want. Hell, we can do whatever we want! I'm a free imp! The first maybe ever!"

Hermione suddenly brightened. "We...we could work for impish rights! Voices Opposing Making Imps Toys! VOMIT! We could be VOMIT, the group for impish rights!"

"Oh sweet Sargeras," Pizyap groaned.

"Why, that's an excellent idea!" K Lee declared, scrambling to her feet. "We could travel the lands freeing imps from their oppressors and spreading the work that imps are gnomes too!"

"Why, using my skills, imp certain we could find a way to summon all the imps in creation and free them!" Wilfred compained.

Hermione and the gnomes cheered, and Pizyap let out a heavy sigh. "Here we go again."

 _Authors Note:_

 _It is a cosmic rule that Hermione should not be allowed to name anything, ever._


	27. Path of Blood I

The armies of both the Horde and Alliance fell back, retreating to their respective holds, numbed by the death of Hellscream and the losses they had taken, both at the hands of the Scourge and from the betrayal of the Forsaken. Varian Wrynn was enraged, but he had a far more pressing concern on his mind. Before they returned to Fordragon Hold, Varian gripped Llane by the arm.

"You have done well," Varian told the young warrior. "You make the Alliance proud. You make ME proud."

Llane missed half a step, looking to the king in shock. "My...my king, what do you mean?"

Varian pulled Llane into an embrace. "I think I know who you are." The king whispered in the young warrior's ear, causing Llane to jerk back.

"How did you- I mean, your majesty, I...I am honored, I am humbled but-"

"For one who saves my life, even if they were not as you are to I, they should call me Varian," the king said. "Or, perhaps another name. What name comes to your lips when you see me, Llane? Or is there something else by which I should call you?"

"I...I cannot," Llane whispered. The warrior trembled, head shaking. "My king, in many ways you guess right. As such, you must know I and my companions must be cautious, and when possible, work in secrecy. Surely you understand."

"I do," the king agreed.

"Varian!" Captain Vancleef pressed through the circle of guards, who moved out of her way at a gesture from the king. She stopped before Llane, gazing up at the warrior. Gently, she took her hand and touched the warrior's helm. "Llane. Once again I meet you. Can I...can I see your face? Do you know me?'

"For now I must remain hidden," Llane rasped, voice ragged as it suddenly raised an octave. "We must remain strangers, for now. Until the time has come."

Varian put an arm around Vancleef drawing her close. She put a hand on his chest, gazing up at the king, tears in her eyes. "You were right," she whispered.

"You knew our fate, did you not," Varian asked. "What has been growing in our hearts, toward you, toward each other."

"I...I did. When...when the time is complete, when the union has been joined, then I can say more," Llane said. Slowly Llane stood, hand going to the roaring lion head. "I am sorry. I wish I could say more. Could tell you all, could show you my face. But that time has not yet come."

"Twice now you have saved our lives," Varian said, squeezing Vanessa in a manner that caused his guards to stare, stunned by the familiarity. "Is Jasyn near? Ginevra has questions for him, and I questions for all of you. The more I know, the more we can prepare for the storm I see upon the horizon."

"Did you say twice? How do you know of Jasyn?" Llane gasped. "But we have not met for-oh Light. My king, I beg you, tell me, when and where do we meet?"

"Bronze dragons," Varian muttered. He shook his head. "Nearly three weeks past, upon the night of the full moon. You, Jasyn, and Chromie, who I suspect has another, far more ancient name, saved my life, the life of your...of Vanessa, and of Ginevera and Anduin. The Infinite Dragonflight came upon us in the night."

"Light save us," Llane muttered. "Rosalind! George! Fred! We must hurry! Time escapes us!" He turned back to the King. "Only Jasyn and I were present?"

"You were the only two we saw," Varian confirmed.

"Light, we are bending things back upon themselves. What madness have I wrought?" Llane whispered. The bronze dragon stooped down as Llane's three companions ran over. They all climbed aboard the dragon, but Llane hesitated, looking back.

"I will find a way to save you, and Stormwind, and all that we love," Llane called. "Fate is not set in stone. We can change our destinies!" With that, the warrior mounted Chromie, and they flew into the air. A few minutes later, they vanished.

"My king, what is happening?" Highlord Bolvar demanded. He looked at how the king and Captain Vancleef stood, embracing, and shook his head. "Varian, my brother, my king, her? The daughter of the man who slew Tiffin?"

"My father was as blinded by Onyxia as any," Vanessa declared. "And I am not he. I will serve Stormwind and her people."

Varian smiled down at Vanessa. "Even this old wolf can learn to forgive, and to love once more." Reluctantly, he let Vanessa go. "But now is not the time for love. Now is the time for vengeance. Highlord! Gather your men. It seems we have another fortress to take. Point the siege engines and the Kor'kron Vanguard. The Horde has much to answer for."

"Varian, don't be an idiot," Vanessa snapped. "Think for a moment. The orcs just lost one of their most treasured sons. It wasn't the orcs who betrayed and murdered our men. It was Sylvanas and her maggot infested kind."

Varian hesitated, then looked to Bolvar. "I...I suspect my lady may speak truth. Bolvar, what say you?"

Fordragon for his part, was now studying Vanessa intently. He slowly nodded. "My lady, it seems you are more than just a young woman with ambition. Forgive me. I saw only the past, not the present. Yes. You are right. I do not think the orcs, especially not Dranoth or Thrall, were behind this. They loved Garrosh Hellscream. To us his father was one of the blackest villains of history, but to them he was the champion who liberated them from the Burning Legion."

"This isn't going to be a problem you solve with armies, Varian," Vanessa said. She held up a dagger, tilting the blade to show the sheen of venom on its surface. "For this, we will require the subtle knife."

"Highlord, my king! The orcs approach under the flag of truce! It is Saurfang and his lieutenants!"

"I will parlay with them," Varian called back. He looked to Bolvar, then to Vanessa. "I shall need your help. I am a warrior born, I have no silver tongue for diplomacy."

Bolvar laughed. "Then you'll do fine with the orcs. They haven't a single diplomatic bone in their bodies."

The king met with Dranosh Saurfang and his lieutenants, Fi'ya Boi of the Revantusk Trolls, and Rustler Burnhoof of the Tauren. Saurfang stepped forward, his head down, carrying his axe. He stopped a pace before the king, raising the axe. Varian tensed, but the orc did not strike. Instead, he cut himself across the palm, then buried his axe in the snow before him. Raising his bloody fist, Dranosh looked at the king, his eyes burning with rage.

"My...brother...has been...betrayed," he snarled, his body trembling with anger. "He was slain by Arthas, true. But I would have had my vengeance. We would have fulfilled our oaths to cast down Arthas. But this was not to be. The Forsaken, Sylvanas, the dark bitch of Lordaeron, has betrayed us!"

Dranosh flung his head back and howled to the skies, sinking to his knees as his blood soaked the snow. Behind him, Fi'ra and Rustler sliced open their own palms, raising blood fists and shouting their loss and anger to the heavens. Behind them, Kor'kron Vanguard echoed with bellows of angry Horde warriors.

Varian took it all in, then drew his sword. Dranosh fell silent, eyeing the king.

"I was no friend of Garrosh Hellscream," Varian said slowly. "In many ways, we were enemies. But he stood beside me this day. He fought alongside the soldiers of the Alliance. And he died alongside the soldiers of the Alliance." Varian slicked his own palm, squeezing his fist so hard that blood poured out onto the snow like wine. "On this day, our blood was shed together. On this day, I was brothers with the Horde!"

Varian thrust his fist into the air. "On this day, I swear Vengeance upon the Forsake, and upon the Scourge! No more shall the undead plague Azeroth!"

Vanessa quickly sliced her own hand on one of her unpoisoned knives, then held it up. "Vengeance for the Wrathgate! Justice for Hellscream!"

The cry was taken up behind her, and soon Fordragon Hold rang with the chants of its soldiers, vowing to retake Lordaeron.

Dranosh grinned, showing his fangs. He extended his hand to Varian, and the king clasped it. The blood of orc and human mingled, and a generation of war ended.

"Upon this day, upon this field of blood, I swear blood oath with you, Varian Wrynn of Stormwind. I shall not rest until my brother is avenged!"

"So be it!" Varian agreed, showing his own teeth in a feral grin. "Let us act with one accord: Horde and Alliance, together!"

\/\/\/\\\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/

Ginny and Anduin had been taken to the keep, where they had been put in the most secure room with guards ringing them. Ginny paced back and forth, spinning a knife through each of her hands. "Dammit, what happened out there? What's happening now?"

"At least we know my father is safe," Anduin said, sitting on a crate with his fingers steepled before him. "But the ramifications of this are dire: father was nearly killed, and many of our soldiers were slain by the Forsaken. This could mean war, and at the worst time."

"I bet he was working for Arthas," Ginny muttered. "Trying to get us to fight the orcs and forsaken instead of focusing on the Scourge like we should be. This was all a ploy."

Anduin looked up, then nodded. "I fear you may be correct. You have an instinct for such things."

"Hmph," Ginny sat down on the floor in front of Anduin, and began juggling her knives. "It's just what I would do. It's so obvious. The enemy is at your gate, about to kick your teeth in. You can't beat them head on, so what do you do? Lure them into a trap, and sow division. Let them fight amongst themselves. When they're weak, then you strike."

"And if I know father, he will want to immediately turn and destroy the Horde. He hates Sylvanas, and hates the orcs. Long has he spoken of reclaiming Lordaeron and bringing justice for her peoples," Anduin said. He shook his head. "In some ways I agree: the Horde is savage and cannot be trusted, and the Forsaken are vile abominations in the eyes of the Light. But a war on two fronts would destroy us."

With a sigh, Anduin slid off his chair and plopped down beside Ginny. "I just don't understand what father has been doing lately. Did he know Llane and that bronze dragon would show themselves here? Who are they? What role do they have to play?"

Ginny stopped juggling her knives and shook her head, tucking them up her sleeves and back into her bodice. "I don't know. I wish that Jasyn had been around. I want to know how he knows Ron. Ragnaros' tits, I want to SEE Ron again."

"You will see your brother again, Ginny, and soon. This I promise," Anduin said, smiling and putting a hand on Ginny's shoulder.

Ginny found herself smiling back, leaning in towards Anduin. She gazed into his eyes, and felt a bone deep longing within her. To feel safe, to feel loved, to feel like she belonged again. Anduin seemed to be giving her those things. She leaned closer, opening herself to him and-

The door opened, and Ginny and Anduin both sprang to their feet, red faced and wide eyed.

Varian strode in, an amusing expression on his face. "Keeping my son well guarded are you, Ginevra?"

Ginny and Anduin both began to babble at the same time, assuring the king they were safe, and they had been doing nothing, really.

"Wow, ease up kiddos," Vanessa said, stepping into the room behind Varian. "Relax. You're not in trouble. Yet anyway."

"Father, you must not attack the Horde!" Anduin blurted.

"It was a trap! Arthas is manipulating us to weaken us," Ginny put in. "Please, your majesty, I know you hate the orcs and all but-"

The king held up his hand, which caused Anduin and Ginny to both fall silent. It was wrapped in a bandage, with a red stain at its center. "I have sworn a blood oath of vengeance with Dranosh Saurfang. We do not attack the Horde. But we will be bringing justice to Sylvanas and the Forsaken. I have given messages to Dranosh Saurfang to send to his father and to Warchief Thrall. We will hold a council of war in Dalaran in three days time."

"I still say you should just send me, Red, and some of the boys to the Undercity," Vanessa grumbled. "Maybe some of those troll shadow hunters too. They're pretty good. We'd have Sylvanas dead with a knife in her back in a weeks time."

"Perhaps," Varian agreed, smiling gently at Vanessa. "You shall of course, be present at the Council." The king turned to Anduin, then glanced at Ginny. "You will be there as well my son. And of course, your bodyguard. You two seem to have grown quite close in such a short time."

Anduin turned bright red and opened his mouth, but no sound came out. Ginny blushed as well, but shrugged casually. "Well, if I'm not close to him, how can I keep him safe?"

Varian threw back his head and roared with laughter. "A fair point! Though see to it you remain out of his bedchamber at night. You must guard his virtue as well as yours, Ginevra."

"Good luck with that for me and you," Vanessa said, rolling her eyes. "If you think I'm some sweet maid you've got another thing coming."

Varian chuckled, wiping his eyes with the back of one hand. "I think I have your measure, Vanessa. Perhaps I should have you guard my bedchamber, and ensure my virtue is intact."

"No."

Ginny stared at Vanessa, bewildered at her answer. Hadn't she been trying to "seize the means of production" and get herself into the king's bed? Or had she completely misread the situation?

"We'll do right by...by our future child," Vanessa said firmly. "We're getting hitched first." Vanessa shrugged. "Not that I wouldn't mind you know. But there's also the nobles to consider. They're going to really hate my guts. Don't need to give them any further ammunition by having them claim you're only marrying me 'cause of a bastard."

Varian smiled, cupping Vanessa's face in his hands. "You will make a fine queen. You show both wisdom, strength, and courage. You will serve Stormwind and her people well."

Anduin made a strangled sound as if he were trying to talk, but had lost the capacity. Ginny poked him in the ribs. "What he means is, 'Gee dad, didn't realize you were getting hitched. Congrats by the way. Also, you talking about bedding mum is really uncomfortable and gross because I'm sort of a prude.'"

Whimpering, Anduin nodded. "Father...I...What has brought this about?"

The king put a hand on his son's shoulder, bending slightly so that they were eye to eye. "Long have you lacked a mother, Anduin. A need you have felt deeply, I think. And long has Stormwind been without the hand of a queen. I have been without a woman as well, a partner to share my burdens with. This will be difficult for us, but I do ask for your blessing. Do you think you could learn to love Vanessa as a mother?"

Anduin glanced at Vanessa, who smiled nervously at him.

"I...I would like to have a mother," Anduin admitted. "And...I am fond of the captain. I mean, Lady Vancleef. You have my blessing father."

"Hey Red, whatcha think?" Vanessa asked, coming over and bumping her with her him. "You ready for me to be your mom?"

"First, I don't have a mom. I have a mum. And second, you're not her. She'd have a fit if she ever found out half of what I've been up to over the years. And why do you think you need my permission? You never asked me when chasing a man before," Ginny said in exasperation.

"Well I didn't properly chase a man before," Vanessa replied. "Plus, I mean, you're the closest thing I have to family."

Ginny immediately hugged Vanessa fiercely. "We'll always be family. I promise. You were there for me, captain, when I needed it. And I'll always be there for you."

"Dammit Red, you're gonna make me cry," Vanessa said, sniffing and wiping at her eye. Then she looked at Varian. "But I think any plans need to be on hold for now. It's time to make that undead bitch pay."

\/\/\/\/\/\\\/\/\/\/\\\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/

After spending a week in Ulduar resting and trying to figure out the location of Odyn and making no progress, Ron and Mylra departed with Muradin. Garrosh and his warriors had left soon after the defeat of Yogg Saron, and while Ron didn't think he would ever say he was a friend of the prideful orc, he at least respected him now. Rosalind and Midna had vanished not long after they had spoken with Ron, with nary word of farewell. This troubled Ron, but he was certain neither of the women were his enemy, or evil, no matter their appearance. Brann stayed behind, giving Ron and Muradin letters to send to members of his expedition to join him in his research at the titan facility.

First they stopped at Frosthold, where they had a three day celebration with the Frostborn, celebrating their victory and the return of their king. Muradin vowed to return, but stated that he needed to once more reunite with his eldest brother. They flew together to Dalaran, with plans to accompany Muradin to Ironforge.

"We've done most of what we came to do," Ron told Mylra. "And truth be told, I'm anxious to see ma and da again. Maybe I do die on Azeroth. I won't give up looking for a way back to Earth, but I'm no going to turn me back on the family I have now."

Myrla nodded, but she looked trouble. "The visions Yogg Saron showed ye trouble me, Ron. Why those? Why show ye the death o' Harry and yerself, and Hermione seemingly betrayin' ye to this Lord Voldemort. What did it hope to accomplish?"

"I think trying to figure out what that thing was tryin' to do would drive anyone to madness," Ron said firmly. "They were lies. That's the long and short of it."

But Ron couldn't shake the feeling there had been more to those visions that simple tricks. How could Yogg Saron have known of Voldemort? And why had he been a lich of the Scourge? It was deeply troubling, and Ron was not sure what he could do.

They arrived in Dalaran with Muradin to find the city crawling even more Alliance and Horde soldiers. Despite the crowds, the city had a grim air about it, with much talk of what had transpired at the Wrathgate. It did not take long to learn that Garrosh was dead, and that the Forsaken had betrayed everyone.

"Well it's not like it's much of a surprise," Ron said to Muradin and Mylra. "I mean, they're bloody undead. Of course they side with Arthas. They're the same kind o' evil."

"I'm with ye on that one, lad," Muradin agreed. "What madess must have possessed anyone to trust the undead is beyond me. But I've been gone a long time."

"I've been around, Bronzebeard. And it do no make sense to me either." Myrla spat on the cobblestones. "Good riddance to bad rubbish, I say."

Murdain's metallic features got odd looks from several dwarves, but they did inform them that Magni Bronzebeard was in the Violet Citadel, along with the other leaders of the Alliance and of the Horde to plan a war of retribution upon the Forsaken.

"Well, that saves us a trip at least," Muradin said. "Take me to the Citadel. I'm Muradin Bronzebeard, brother of King Magni."

"You're the lost Bronzebeard?" one of the dwarven guards asked. He peered at Muradin, then gasped, falling to one need. "By my beard...forgive me, Thane, I did no recognize ye." The guard sprang to his feet, shouting orders. "Send word to the Citadel! Muradin Bronzebeard has been returned to us!"

Despite the press of the crowds, a path was cleared by a cadre of Alliance guards, dwarf, human, and elven, as they marched to the citadel. To Ron's surprise, the orcs along their path saluted them.

"Lok'tar, comrade of Hellscream!"

"Honor to the Godslayers!"

Ron eyed the grim orcs, who universally had a red cloth tied around their hands as it were some sort of bandage. To his shock, it wasn't just the Horde that bore them, but hardened Alliance Veterans who bore the markings of the 7th Legion. It was they who had stood at the Wrathgate, and it seemed they were willing to swear a blood oath as well.

"Never thought I'd see Horde and Alliance working together," Muradin mused. "I thought our Alliance with Garrosh was an act of desperation. Has there been peace while I was gone?"

"Of a sort," Mylra explained. "We fought alongside the orcs during the Third War at the Battle of Hyjal. One of me brothers was slain there. And we worked together to kill Illidan the Betrayer in Outland. It's been an uneasy peace, but it has been peace."

"All for the good I say," Ron said. "I understand the orcs, and I like the tauren. Even the trolls aren't so bad. They speak with the spirits."

"And what about the undead? Aren't they a part of this Horde?" Muradin asked. Ron spat, and Muradin laughed. "Aye lad. I agree."

They were approaching the Violet Citadel when a column of dwarven infantry met them at a full run. At its center was a dwarf who could have been no one but Muradin's elder brother, so similar did they look, save for the weight of years on him and the iron flesh that had been bound to Muradin.

"Magni!" Muradin cried. "It's been too long!"

The dwarven king cast aside formality and ran forward to embrace his brother. "Muradin!" he cried, tears streaming down his face. "I thought ye were lost to me, brother! Where have ye been? What's happened to ye? Yer face, it's half metal now!"

"Many things, brother," Muradin said, tears running down his own face as he embraced his king. "But I heard what happened to Garrosh Hellscream. He helped free me from my imprisonment by a dark god o' death, and then slew it. He was a hero, and a friend."

"He freed you?" Magni demanded, separating from Muradin to look him in the eyes. "Tell me true, Muradin. I have been doubting the wisdom of this Blood Vengeance Pact, but if what ye say is true…"

"He did, brother," Murdain declared. "Garrosh Hellscream saved me life, and saved all of Azeroth by rejecting the lies of the Old God Yogg Saron and destroying it forever. I owe him a great debt."

Magni nodded. "I see. And who are these two that accompany you?"

"These are Mylra Stormcaller, and Ronald Weasley, of Clan Wildhammer. Myrla's parents adopted Ron as a founding, and he has joined their clan. Their great and noble deeds also rescued me, and helped to slay Yogg Saron."

"Then be welcome, champions," Magni said, bowing. "Clan Bronzebeard, nay, all of Azeroth, owes ye a debt of gratitude."

Ron and Myrla bowed formally. "It was our honor to aide our brothers in Clan Bronzebeard in their time o' need," Mylra said. "The Pact of Mountain and Crag is not forgotten."

"Indeed. We shall need such unity in the time to come," Magni said. He motioned the forward. "Come, I departed in haste when word was brought my brother had returned, but though I long to spend time alone with ye Muradin we have no the time. Things are dire, now. The world is at the brink, and we must decide how to save it."

As the approached the Violet Citadel, Ron gazed up at the massive fortress in awe. It was surrounded by glowing arcane protections, and its upper spire seemed to pierce the heavens themselves. It was not carved like dwarven stonework, but wrought with arcane magics that welded the stone and metal into shape in flowing lines.

Magni led them deep within the citadel, to a large room with a round table at it center. At the table stood Thrall, Warchief of the Horde. Next to him were his lieutenants, Varok Saurfang and his son Dranosh, Cairne Bloodhoof of Thunder Bluff, Lor'themar Theron of Quel'Thalas, and Vol'jin of the Darkspear.

Across from them were the leaders of the Alliance. Varian Wrynn with Captain Vancleef, Jaina Proudmoore of Theramore, Gelbin Mekkatorque of Gnomeregan, and Tyrande Whisperwind of Darnassus, and the Prophet Velen of the Exodar.

They were joined by Highlord Tirion Fordring, bearer of the Ashbringer, and the dark clad Death Knight Darion Mograine. Khadgar was there, eyeing Ron with an appraising air. The last at the table were the leaders of the Kirin Tor, Archmage Rhonin and Vereesa Windrunner, sister to Sylvanas.

Once everyone's eyes were upon them, Magni brought Muradin forward. "This is my brother, Muradin, returned to me from beyond the grave, by none other than the hand of Garrosh Hellscream. He ventured into Ulduar, saved my brother, and slew the dark god Yogg Saron."

The reactions to the news were mixed. Dranosh looked pleased, as did Vol'jin. Of the Horde, they were by far the greatest critics of the Forsaken, and the ones most set on avenging Garrosh. Varok Saurfang simply looked wearied, while Lo'themar's expression was carefully neutral. In contrast, Thrall and Cairn looked deeply disturbed and grieved, but said nothing. They had been the voices most in support of seeking Sylvanas' own testimony before judging her.

As for the Alliance, only Prophet Velen looked worried by the news. Gelbin appeared overjoyed to see Muradin again, but Varian and Jaina both seemed to take heart at the news. Vanessa none to sublely grinned like a cat who had just caught a bird.

The supposedly neutral parties kept their own council, but Tirion seemed pleased in some small way, while Darion sat immobile and silent.

Slowly, Magni withdrew a knife from his belt. He examined it in the light, frowning slightly. "Blood Oaths are not the way of the dwarves. However, we do recognize debts, and the need to repay them. My brother lives because of Garrosh Hellscream." With a swift motion, Magni sliced his palm, then held up a bloody fist. "The dwarves shall join the Blood Vengeance Pact!"

"Well, Warchief?" Varian demanded, turning to Thrall. "Do you still insist that we should talk to the traitors first."

Slowly, Thrall withdrew the Doomhammer from his belt. He handed it to Dranosh, then sliced his palm with a knife. He held up his bloody fist. "I can no longer oppose such. Dranosh, you have my permission. Take the Undercity."

There were roars of approval around the room, until Lor'themar stood. "Before we begin, there is the matter of the lands of Lordaeron. Arthas is still the nominal king, and the Forsaken had claim because they were the remains of those who once lived there. But what now? Does the Horde still claim the territory?"

Thrall sighed heavily. "No. Lordaeron belongs to her people. The Horde has no further claim to those lands. The Forsaken shall be purged, and when they are gone, the Horde will not contest the territory further."

"That is a problem," Lor'themar said, eyeing Varian. "For the next best claim is that of Stormwind. You have many of Lordaeron's people present, and your mother, Taria Wrynn, was cousin to King Terenas. But a state of war still exists between the Quel'dorei and Stormwind."

Varian frowned, shifting in his seat. He glanced around the room, eyes resting on Lady Proudmoore, who seemed worried. Finally, the king stood. "Lordaeron will be reclaimed, and rebuilt. But it is still covered in plague and death, not fit to be inhabited by the living. I propose that a neutral, third party, be given over management of Lordaeron. Perhaps the Argent Crusade would consent to such?"

Tirion stirred, looking at Varian for a long moment. Finally he nodded. "We would of course be glad to assist in the cleansing of Lordaeron, and will give over fully to its restoration once Arthas is defeated. Perhaps Lady Lindarin would assist me in such?"

"That is...more than acceptable," Lor'themar said after a long moment's pause. "It would be good to have a friend upon our doorstep." He eyed Varian appraisingly as he took out a knife and sliced his palm. "Perhaps the time has come to broker peace between our peoples."

"Indeed," Varian agreed. "Our true quarrel was with Kael'thas Sunstrider, and then with the Horde. But we have made peace with the Horde this day, and I see no reason not to include the Quel'dorei in such an arrangement."

"So be it," Thrall rumbled. "It was a steep price to pay, but one well worth it. Now, let us speak of which troops must be pulled from Northrend, and who shall be in command."

Magni went to take his place at the table with Muradin at his side, while Ron and Mylra made to slip back outside. To their surprise, they found Khadgar waiting for them in the hall.

"Well, young champions. It seems your mission into Ulduar was successful," the Archmage said. "And indeed, your reward is at hand. As I told you, young Ronald, you will get to see your family once more."

"Aye, I learned of Odyn," Ron said. "Mayhaps he knows a way."

"Odyn?" Khadgar asked, puzzled. "I have not heard the name before. But come. Your sister and Harry are most anxious to see you once more."

"My sister?" Ron looked to Mylra, then back at Khadgar. "But Mylra is-"

Khadgar smiled. "This way."

Ron hurried after Khadgar, his heart beating like a drum. The archmage led them to A Hero's Welcome, to the best rooms that had been converted to a Royal Sweet. Ron raced up the stairs, not waiting for the archmage. He burst into the royal chambers, despite the guards protest, breathing hard. He found a blond haired youth about his age, who was playing a game of cards with Harry, Impa, and a red haired girl.

"It can't be," Ron gasped. He ran forward and scooped the girl up in his arms, laughing and crying. "Gin! It's you! Oh spirits it's you! My little sister!"

"Ron!" Ginny cried, hugging him tightly. "Bloody buggering hell where have you been? I've been looking for you for weeks!"

"Weeks?" Ron set Ginny down, shaking his head. "I was in Ulduar, with the Bronzebeard brothers. We fought a terrible foe, Ginny. I saw...dark visions, and strange things. But you're here. Ginny, how are you here? What about mum and dad? Our brothers?"

"There're not here," Ginny said, refusing to let go of Ron and clinging to him tightly. "Ron, it's just us. I met Harry, he says someone named Hermione is here too? Tits on a murloc Ron, what happened to us?"

"I don't know," Ron whispered, squeezing Ginny back. "But I'm here. And I won't won't lose you again, little sister."

After a long moment the two Weasley's separated, wiping tears away from their eyes and grinning. They made introductions all around, though Khadgar had vanished again. Anduin was stiffly formal and polite, though he also didn't have near the number of airs that Ron had though a princeling would. Harry was laughing and grinning, congratulating everyone. Mylra immediately declared that Ginny was an honorary Wildhammer, and welcome in the home of their parents at any time. Impa was impressed with Ron's hammer, and wanted to know more of Ulduar.

The next day went by in a blur, with Ron and Ginny practically inseparable. Slowly, they found time alone and told each other of their time on Azeroth. Ron was horrified at what Ginny had gone through, but also impressed. It seemed his sister had become quite a heroine, and learned to take care of herself as well. Ginny was equally terrified of the ordeal Ron had undergone in Ulduar, and perplexed by the visions he explained to her.

"I don't understand any of it. Harry and Impa having a child I can see, but the Scourge overrunning everything, and Voldemort as one of them? I don't understand."

Ron meet Vanessa Vancleef, who rumor had it was soon to be the next Queen of Stormwind. She was with the king often enough, who seemed a decent enough sort. On the second evening, the King took Ron to his private chambers to speak to him alone.

"It is said you encountered the infinite dragonflight within Ulduar," the king said, pouring a glass of whiskey for himself and one for Ron. He seemed to accept that the boy was for all intents and purposes a dwarf, and treated him as such.

"Aye. A beast named Aeonus. And a bronze, Chromorormu. Well, actually two copies, but they looked like a gnome most of the time."

"And the name of Chromie reveals itself," Varian mused. "Tell me, what happened?"

Ron gave a detailed report, everything from his meeting with Llane to Garrosh destroying the brain of Yogg Saron and Freya's revelation regarding the Hidden King.

When he was finished, the hour was late, and the king had lit a lamp upon the table they were sitting at. He gazed at Ron intently, resting his head on his hand, frowning. "This Rosalind and Midna. I have seen them before. They were at the Wrathgate, wielding Val'anyr and one of the High Blades. They saved my life. Llane I have seen as well. They are of great interest to me. Llane especially. The visions you saw of them...what did you think of them?

"I want to say they're lies," Ron said, gazing into his empty glass. He reached for the bottle and poured himself another, his tenth of the evening. He knocked it back, then sighed. "But I don't know. Hermione becoming a demoness...that I can see for true. It's disturbing. Harry and Impa having a child, that rings of the future as well. And Harry's after some sword he told me of. I saw that sword in his hands. It looked the same as the one Midna bore, actually."

"Indeed," Varian rubbed his chin thoughtfully. And what of the vision you saw of yourself?"

Ron shifted uncomfortably. "That one made the least sense. I mean, I suppose that's what I could look like in a decade or so, and that was certainly Sharpbeak. But the bear man, that structure, I've never seen anything like it. Nor can I think of a lass I would marry. Certainly not a bear man's niece."

"Ten years is a long time, Ronald," Varian said. "A year ago and I would have told you my future wife was one of my bitterest enemies."

Ron eyed the king curiously. "Are the rumors true, then? You and Vancleef?"

"We will be formally announcing our engagement within a week. Tell me, in your vision, could she have been the queen you saw?"

"I don't believe so," Ron said slowly. "The woman was young, aye, less than 30, likely only 25 winters. But she was fair, with red hair. Honestly, the one she reminded me of was-"

Ron cut himself off and coughed.

"Was?" the king promoted.

"Nothing, just a quirk of the mind. Those visions were madness besides," Ron declared. He reached for the bottle again, but the king grabbed his arm.

"You must tell me everything, Ronald. These visions could reveal a great deal of our enemies plans. Who did you see?"

Hesitantly, Ron met Varian's gaze. "My sister. She looked like Ginny."


	28. Path of Blood II

Having Ron back was in many ways wonderful, but it also opened up old wounds. While Ginny was no longer a pirate living a filthy life of crime and murder, she was also not the little girl she had been four years ago. She had thought she no longer mourned her loss of innocence, but with Ron there, Ginny longed for carefree days in the Burrow where her biggest problem was getting in a row with her mum over ruining her dress or flying a broom without permission.

Still, she knew Ron had changed as well. He was far more confident than he had been, no longer the overshadowed youngest son who never received anything new. He was bold, brave, and now had feats of legend to his name. How many could say that had slain a titan watcher or helped destroy an ancient evil god? He was also much kinder to Ginny, almost to the point where it was annoying.

They had been together again for only three days when they had their first big fight again.

"Gin, you've got to come with me," Ron informed her abruptly one morning. "Mylra and I are going to Ironforge to search for information on Odyn. If we can find him, perhaps he can help us get home. We're leaving this afternoon on the _Mountain's Fury._ "

Anduin's brow furrowed, but before he could even begin to think of a protest Ginny had turned from their breakfast and stuck her face right in Ron's.

"Excuse me, what did you just say," she hissed.

Ron blinked, taking half a step back, but Ginny stayed right in his face. They were at that age where younger sisters, however briefly, where taller than their older brothers, and she had half an inch on Ron.

"I said we're leaving this afternoon. Get yer gear together," Ron stated.

"Are you giving ME orders, swabbie?" Ginny snarled. "Because it sounds like you're trying to give me orders."

Ron threw his hands up in the air. "Oh for the love of stone, Gin, you didn't think we'd stay here forever, did you? We've found each other. Now we've just got to find a way to get back to Earth."

"And what makes you think I even want to go back to Earth?" Ginny demanded.

Ron was so shocked he couldn't speak, his mouth hanging open like a speared fish.

"In case no one told you, I have a duty here. I'm the prince's bloody bodyguard, and I'm first mate to Captain Vancleef as well as an agent of SI:7. I can't just go veering off on some mad hunt for this Odyn just on your say so. And besides, I bloody well like it here, I'm-"

"You're damn well going home Ginevra Molly Weasley and yer doin' it if I have to turn ye into a blasted frog and stuff ye in me saddlebags to accomplish it!" Ron roared, grabbing for Ginny's arm. "If I went back without you what would mum and dad do? What would you do without me?"

Ginny slapped Ron's hand away and punched him in the gut hard enough to double him over. "I survived in the bloody bilges for three light forsaken years you yellow bellied naga spawn! I killed a man for trying to rape me while you were safe and sound with your damned rock grubbing ma and da! And now that I've clawed my own way up in the world through my own sweat, blood and tears, you want to swoop in like some bloody great hero and save me? Not on your murloc buggering life!"

Ron snarled and headbutted Ginny in the gut, knocking her to the floor, he pulled at her hair while trying to get her in a headlock. "I had to face trolls, the elements, demons, and the black heart o' the god of death itself! Don't ye be getting on a high ram with me ya fool girl! I'm yer moonkin kissin' family and yer older brother and if ye won't see sense yerself I'll damn well beat it into ya!"

Ginny punched Ron in the kidney, threw him off of her, standing and circling as she drew a knife. "You can run like a coward, Ronald Bilius Weasley, but I'm standing with the people who were with me through Neptulon's teeth and back!"

"Yer abandonin' yer own family is what yer doin'!" Ron snarled, fire flaring in his fists as his eyes smoldered with flame.

"I'm making my own family in a damn cruel world! It's you who's abandoning me! What about Mylra? What about Muradin? You started something Ron, and you had damn well better finish it. Arthas is set to kill everyone you love here on Azeroth and you'd rather run off and try to find some mythical lost king chasing a dream that will never be! It's gone, Ron, and trying to find some fools hope of going home is a dream for a child!"

Ginny snarled and stepped forward as Ron did. She wasn't going to kill the bastard, but by the Raven Lord she was going to teach him a lesson. Ron moved at the same time, roaring in rage and anger.

Just then, the door burst open and guards poured in with drawn swords, shouting and angry. As one, Ron and Ginny turned away from each other and towards the guards, Ginny drawing her pistol as Ron drew back his hand to throw a fireball.

Before both of them managed to do something they'd really regret, Ginny and Ron were yanked back by a hand of light. Anduin grabbed both of them firmly by their collars when they landed and sat them down on the floor, hard.

"Ronald, you will go with the guards at once. Humphries, escort Mr. Weasley to his chambers until he has calmed down. He is to speak with me before he is permitted to leave. Understand?"

"Yes, sire," Lieutenant Humphries said, grabbing a stunned Ron by the arm. "Come along, m'lord. "

Ginny made as if to run off herself, but Anduin firmly pushed her into a chair. "As for you, I think you need to calm down as well, Miss Weasley, before you either murder your brother or one of my guards."

"But I-"

Anduin held up a hand. "You have clearly lost your temper. I understand emotions can run high during family squabbles. Light, do I understand that. But until you get your anger under control you are going nowhere, unless I have to have you locked in your own chambers. Do you understand?"

Ginny glared at Anduin, but then glanced at the stone faced guards. Humphries may have gone with Ron, but there were still enough to drag her away no matter what she did. "Fine," she snapped.

Anduin nodded. "Guards, you are dismissed. Return to your posts."

"But sire, for your own safety we should not-"

"There is nowhere safer for me than in Miss Weasley's company. Return to your posts, Winters."

The guard hesitated for a moment, then she saluted. "Yes, sire."

Once they were alone again, Anduin slowly sat across the table from Ginny, his stern gaze replaced by a look of deep concern. "Miss Weasley…Ginny…are you well?"

For a moment, Ginny was still furious with Anduin for manhandling her and ordering her about, but then she broke down. She desperately tried not to cry, wiping at her eyes and hiccupping. "I just…I just…I can't face my mum! She can't see…I've done so many things, Andy! So many awful, terrible things! I've killed and robbed and lied and-"

Anduin took Ginny into his arms, hugging her as the floodgates burst and Ginny wept, clutching at the prince as she shook with sobs.

"Your mother would be proud of you," Anduin whispered. "So very proud. Any mother would be. You have risked your life to help others even when you did not have to. You have saved my life, putting yourself between me and danger when I should have protected you as your prince."

Ginny nodded, hiccupping and wiping at her streaming nose with the back of her hand. She couldn't speak, but pulled back and looked into Anduin's eyes, desperate to see confirmation of his words. To her surprise, she found Anduin was silently weeping.

"If…if you wish to go with Ronald to Ironforge and find a way to return home…then…then you have my blessing. I shall see to it that father provides you with whatever aide you require. If he will not, then I shall help you out of my own purse. You are owed a great debt, Ginny, and I will see it paid. Whatever it is you wish, you can have it."

 _No, I can't,_ Ginny thought. _Because I want you, so very, very badly. But I'm just a murdering pirate. I could never be good enough for you, Anduin Wrynn. Not in a thousand years._

"No," Ginny said firmly. "I am staying here, on Azeroth. This is my home now. And Ron's, if he'd open he's damned eyes to see it. After all, who'd save you from dragons the next time they fly into your window if I left?"

A slow smile crept over Anduin's face, though he tried to hide it. "You truly mean it? I meant what I said. If you wish to go, you shall have my help."

"I mean it," Ginny said, squeezing Anduin's hand. "I'm staying."

Half an hour later, Ron found Ginny sitting on the balcony ledge of A Heroe's Welcome, looking down at the traffic streaming by on the street below. With a sigh, Ron sat beside her, his legs dangling over the inn's sign.

"Look, Gin, I'm sorry," Ron said after a moment.

Ginny nodded, not looking at Ron. "I…I'm sorry too. I know going home means a lot to you. I should have…I don't know. Broken it to you gently."

"Nah. I was bein' an arse," Ron said. He spat down onto the cobblestones, grimacing. "I should have realized you're not the little girl I remember. Not by half."

"And you're not the unreasonable moron I used to know," Ginny said, turning to smile wanly at Ron. "it's just…even if you showed me a portal right now, I wouldn't want to leave. I belong here, with Vanessa and Anduin and all the others. Earth is…well, it's just a memory. A memory of better days gone by."

"It doesn't have to be," Ron said quietly. "I know if something brought us here, something can take us back."

"Maybe. But what kind of home would we return to? We've changed. So will everyone else. They won't be the same as what we remember."

Ron was quiet for a long while. "I'm not giving up," he said finally. "I'll find a way home. And I hope you, and Harry, and yes, even Hermione, choose to take it. But for now…for now I think maybe I need to help save this world. Ye were right, Ginny. I can't turn my back on the Clan that took me in, fed me, clothed me, and were kin to me. "

"If I can, I'll help you find that way home, Ron," Ginny said, putting her arm around her brother's shoulders and leaning on his shoulder. "Even if it's not for me."

\/\\\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\\\/\/\/\/\/\\\/\/\\\/\/\\\/\/\\\/\/

"Highlord? May I speak with you?"

When Tirion Fordring turned to face Harry, he knelt, holding out the battered hilt. "Highlord, I have been charged by the Naaru to restore this blade. They told me that perhaps you could aide me in my quest."

"Charged by the Naaru, you say?" Fordring said, coming over to Harry and taking up the hilt. "Stand up, son. Let us see what you have here." The Highlord passed a hand over the hilt, his palm glowing with holy energy. "My, my. Well, you do have something special here, young paladin. This is the hilt of one of the Lost High Blades. It's been defiled however; only a glimmer of the light that once dwelt within it remains. Where did you find it?"

Harry rose, taking the hilt back from Fordring. "It was in the possession of one of the san'layn, Prince Valanar. It was taken from him when he was slain at Valiance Keep. I was there with the Vindicarate."

"Indeed," Fordring stroked his beard, looking at Harry with an appraising eye. "This then would most likely be the hilt of Quel'dalar, the blade born by Thalorien Dawnseeker. He was a paladin of the High Elves. I believe he fell defending the Sunwell from Arthas, as did so many. A tragic, senseless loss."

"I seek to restore the blade, Highlord," Harry said, holding up the hilt. "Tell me, can you aide me in my quest?"

"To do that, we would need to uncover more of the history of this blade," Fordring said. "How came it to Northrend? Come, let us speak with Vareesa Windrunner. Perhaps she knows more of the history of this blade."

Harry followed Tirion through the Violet Citadel, passing by warriors of the Horde and Alliance, Paladins of the Argent Crusade, and even one or two of Darion Morgrain's Death Knights. Harry shivered as he passed the former servants of the Lich King, but held his peace. For now, every ally against the Scourge was a welcome one.

"My lady, do you have a moment?" Tirion said, entering into the command room.

A high elven lady dressed in the uniform of a ranger turned to regard Harry and Tirion. Like her Blood Elven kin, she was of human height, but with a far more slender build and long pointed ears with even longer eyebrows. Unlike the Blood Elves however, her eyes did not glow with the green light of an arcane magic addiction, but with a soft blue.

"Of course, Tirion," Veressa said, looking up from the map she had been studying. She smiled tiredly. "It is just…this Blood Vengeance Pact. While I understand the motives, this is my elder sister. I never thought Sylvanis would become the enemy of the world."

"That thing is no longer your sister, my lady," Tirion said firmly. "She is merely the corpse of your sister that needs to be put to rest at last."

Veressa bristled, but then shook her head, passing a hand over her eyes. "I…yes. You are right. My husband has said much the same thing. And for her to betray us all at the Wrathgate…even the love of a sister must know limits. Please, how can I help?"

"This lad has a most interesting relic," Tirion said, motioning Harry forward.

Harry presented the battered hilt to Veressa, and she took it in her hands, examining it. "I recognize this," she murmured. "This was once the hilt of Quel'Delar, the prismatic blade passed down by my people to defend them against all foes. I thought it lost."

Harry explained how he had come into possession of the blade and his charge, and Veressa nodded thoughtfully. "That letter you speak of, I know Lana'thel. It was rumored that members of Kael'thas' expedition were turned to the Scourge, but to have them become such abominations…"

Veressa look a deep breath, looking ill. "Too much has been taken from my people. To many have been cut down by Arthas and raised as mockeries of their former selves. I must ask you to destroy Lana'thel, Harry Potter, and put an end to her torment. Much as I fear must be done for my own sister."

"If I am able, I shall, my lady," Harry promised. "But how would we remake the sword?"

"You will need to find the blade. I suspect you will find it at Illidan's Doom in Icecrown," Veressa said. She shook her head sadly. "Of course, that puts it well out of our reach. That territory is far from our front lines and held fast by the Scourge. And with the new campaign to destroy the Forsaken, any attempts to press further into Icecrown have been forestalled."

"I see." Harry did his best to hide his disappointment, but bowed to Veressa all the same. "Thank you for your help, my lady. And…I am sorry to hear about your sister. I pray that her soul can be restored."

"If only there were a way for the rest of her to be made whole," Veressa said mournfully. She smiled faintly at Harry. "Good luck, young paladin. Should you succeed in finding the remains of the blade, return to me. Perhaps with improving relations between the Silver Covenant and Quel'thalas, it could be made anew in the light of the Sunwell."

Harry departed with Tirion, who paused in the hallway. "I am sorry I could not be of more help, young man. Still, the Crusade presses ever onward, even with this foolishness in the Undercity. Yes, the Forsaken are a threat, but Arthas is a far graver one."

"Highlord, if it is not too much to ask, might I join you on your crusade?" Harry asked suddenly. "I know I am young yet, but I have trained in the ways of the Light with the Vindicars of the Exodar. You are the only ones pressing into Icecrown, and my best hope of remaking Quel'delar."

"The crusade is always open to those who walk in the Light," Tirion said, smiling and placing a hand upon Harry's shoulder. "I would gladly welcome you to our cause. You are Harry Potter, the one Vindicator Maraad spoke of to me, are you not?"

"Yes, Highlord." Harry hesitated for a moment, wondering how much he could say. He looked up at Tirion, and saw the same compassion and strength that the Naaru radiated, if in lesser measure. "But perhaps you should know my history."

"I don't need to, lad. I can see you walk in the Light, and that you truly wish to cleanse Azeroth of evil. That is all I need to know," Tirion declared.

Harry grinned and bowed. "Thank you sir! There is one other thing. My boon companion, Impa, she is not a paladin as I am, but she is a shaman. She would wish to accompany me."

"As I said, the Crusade is open to all who walk in the Light and oppose evil," Tirion repeated.

Harry glanced behind them as a pair of Death Knights strode past, their dark armor clinking as frost rimed the ground where they had passed.

"Yes, even the Knights of the Ebon Blade," Tirion said softly. "Many of them were once our brothers in the Light. They have been restored to us, in part. It is one reason I think it is folly to seek to destroy Sylvanas. She is not Arthas' pawn, nor a fool. Something more is afoot here. Still, I cannot oppose the cleansing of Lordaeron and the destruction of so many undead. It makes Darion uneasy, but I think he understands: once this war is won, what place on Azeroth will there be for those such as he?"

"I do not know," Harry admitted. He shuddered. "But I will follow the path of the Light. Wherever it leads."

"Good lad," Tirion slapped Harry's back, grinning widely. "Come to the Crusade's embassy and we'll find a place for you. For now, we work simply to contain the Scourge, but soon we will renew our offensive. And then, we shall need every man and woman we can muster."

/\\\/\/\/\/\/\/\\\\\/\/\/\\\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/

Three days after her fight with Ron, Ginny returned to Stormwind with Anduin, Vanessa, and the King through a mage portal. Ron departed for Ironforge, not to search through old tomes, but to fly back to the Hinterlands. He and Mylra would join with the Wildhammer as they flew to Lordaeron to begin the assault upon the Forsaken.

"I won't stop looking for a path home. But I'll no abandon the one I have either," Ron told Ginny. "Sharpbeak and I will fight for the Aerie, as proper members of the clan. Stay safe, Ginny."

"Are you kidding? I'll be so safe I'll be bored out of my skull, staying in the castle and watching the prince's back," Ginny said, giving Ron a hug. "You just watch out. I've seen what the Forsaken Plague can do to people, Ron. It isn't pretty."

"Ha! Those rotters haven't contended with the likes of me and Sharpbeak before! Their bats could never hope to keep up with a Gryphon!"

Ginny of course, had been telling at least a small white lie. She was certain that the announcement that Vanessa Vancleef was to be wedded to Varian Wrynn would create no end of turmoil.

Indeed, when the proclamation went out, reactions were decidedly mixed. The common folk largely rejoiced: Edwin Vancleef had acquired something of a folk hero status as the man who had stood up for the oppressed and fought against corruption. People remembered the tragedy of the Stonemason's riots, where a stray stone thrown by one of Edwin's men had been responsible for the death of Tiffin Wrynn when she had gone to calm the crowds. Now, however, it had been revealed this had been the machinations of the black dragon Onyxia that was responsible for the violence. As such, most peasants chose to remember Vancleef as a tragic hero, wronged by vile nobles and evil dragons, who had stood up for his rights and the rights of the common man, and had ultimately died a martyr's death in the Deadmines.

Vanessa herself was highly romanticized as a freedom fighter who had risked everything to sail to the aide of the people at her own peril. Her piracy was seen as an adventure, not as something truly vile or wicked. After all, she'd robbed nobles and merchants, not peasants. And of course, the very idea that a commoner would be marrying into the royal family had the peasantry in ecstasy.

The merchants and traders, on the other hand, had a much less enthusiastic response. They remembered Vanessa as a plague upon their shipping, and the Defias as the ones who had slaughtered their employees and pillaged their caravans, costing them in coin and blood. A few were cautiously optimistic, recalling Edwin Vancleef's crusade to reduce the nobilities stranglehold on many industries, and some even remembered him as the honorable head of the Stonemasons' guild. They did acknowledge that Vanessa had also been instrumental in rounding up many of the bandits who had been operating under the Defias banner (or at least, Ginny had, and Vanessa had received credit).

If the merchants were somewhat tepid, the noble's reaction was out and out hostile. Several nobles actually shouted that the king had gone mad at the ceremony, and had to be quieted by the guards. Others, especially families with daughters of marriageable age, glared at Vanessa with pure hatred for robbing them of their prize. Those Ginny marked as possible threats. But the most dangerous ones in Ginny's estimation were those who concealed their bile, clapping and smiling. The smiles never reached their eyes though, and behind those Ginny saw pure murder.

After the announcement, Shaw pulled Ginny aside. "Well girl, we're well and truly in it now. I don't know what madness has possessed the king, but you and the entire royal family just had great big targets painted on your backs. Now might be a good time to get out of town. Still interested in getting deployed to Northrend?"

"Not a bloody chance," Ginny replied. "Who's the first target?"

Shaw chuckled darkly. "Take your pick. Aren't you supposed to be protecting the prince though?"

"The best defense is to kill your enemy before they can move," Ginny stated. "This is what I trained for, Shaw. Give me a target."

"Lady Estilla Knowles," Shaw said. "Her daughter Kylien was one of the top contenders for the kings hand. Pretty lass, smart too, but she's just as much of a political manipulator as her mother. Lady Knowles has sent emissaries to hire members of the Uncrowned to kill Vanessa, and the king too. She plans on having her daughter marry Anduin and having herself named regent. She might get the votes in the House of Nobles to do it if she manages to bribe the right people too."

"Any stipulations on the job?" Ginny asked, feeling her blood boil at the thought of that harpy forcing her daughter on Andy.

Shaw pursed his lips. "It would be best if this one sent a message. It can't implicate the king or SI:7, or the Defias Brotherhood. It should be an accident, but one that is too obviously an accident. Something to scare anyone else out of trying the same thing. The daughter needs to be dealt with too: if she thinks she can continue her mother's plan she's got the wherewithal to do so."

"Got it," Ginny said. "I'll talk with my informants in the city and come up with a plan. They won't ever see it coming."

Taking off her fine leather armor, Ginny put on the clothes of Gin the Cheesemaker's Niece. Getting a cart from the Triggs, she went to Cathedral square. Before long, Topper McNab showed up, smiling and rubbing his filthy hands.

"Gin, good to see you, good to see you. My, those cheeses look delicious. Of course, a poor old beggar like me could never afford to-"

Ginny tossed Topper a wheel of cheese the size of his fist, much to his astonishment. "I need information," Ginny told him. "The Lady Knowles and her daughter. Who visits them, where they go, who they are seen with, what they fear, what they like, everything. Spread the word to the orphans and beggars: anyone with good information get's a reward."

Topper bit into the cheese as he listened, only to wince and gingerly touch his tooth, which had chiped. He was about to complain, when he caught the glint of gold. He quickly hid the cheese under the rags he wore as a tunic, then peaked at it. When he pulled out the gold piece, he grinned, showing his rotting teeth. He tucked the cheese and coin away, bowing to Ginny. "Of course, Gin, of course. The Lady Knowles, you say? Why, I'll let you know the last time she took a crap and what it was she put in the chamber pot, if you know what I mean."

"You do that, Topper," Ginny said. "I'll be here all day and into the evening."

It didn't take long for a steady stream of orphans and beggars to arrive at Ginny's cart, each with their own tidbit. Soon, a picture of Lady Knowles emerged. She was always going to parties with the "right sort" of people. Never ones hosted by wealthy merchants, only the high nobility and well connected dignitaries from other nations. She presented a kind face to the public, sponsoring soup kitchens and shelters for refugees. But it was well known that in person she would not hesitate to have her carriage run down an urchin who got in her way, and anyone who dared approach her person to ask for a handout or an audience would get a swift beating from her guards.

As to her guards, they were the best, toughs who were former 7th Legion or Kings Guard. They would be nigh impossible to bribe, for while Lady Knowles was not kind to her help, she did pay well and had a standing offer to double any offered bribe in exchange for the head of whoever was offering. She also went everywhere with those same guards: Knowles was never alone.

Her husband was long dead, and while it was rumored she had taken various lovers over the years, they were always pretty young men she took on as a servant for a few months, only for their corpses to turn up in a back alley when she was done with them. Her latest favorite was new though, and she always hand selected them after a thorough background check, so no way in there.

Her daughter was cast in much the same mold, and was frequently in her mother's company. While she did court the attention of many young men, she was a few years older than Vanessa and yet unmarried, having held out for an offer from the king. The best strategy there would be to hit mother and daughter at the same time.

It didn't take Ginny long to come up with a plan. First, she found out which of the high nobles would be hosting parties that Knowles and her daughter would both be likely to attend. There was one coming up in a week, which didn't give Ginny much time.

If there was one flaw in Lady Knowles security, it was that she always took the shortest route through the city. She often left the main causeways and took backways to her destination if it would be shorter. Of course, her men rode before her clearing the way, and an open ambush would be bloody and costly. Ginny was confident she could get enough of the Defias to help her that they could hack down the guards and kill the lady and her daughter, but that would be too obvious.

Fortunately, Stormwind was a city of canals, and Ginny was an expert on the waterways. She found Helix, and asked him how hard it would be to get one of the older bridges to collapse in a fairly natural manner.

"Shouldn't be too hard," Helix said, inspecting the bridge Ginny had in mind. It was an older bridge between the Park where Lady Knowles lived and Old Town, where the party she would be attending would be held. "I could just blow it up, send the whole thing sky high and the lady with it."

"No, it has to be seen as an accident," Ginny stated firmly. "Could you time the collapse to occur when the carriage is on the bridge?"

Helix rubbed his chin. "Yeah, yeah I could do that. A few small charges here, and here. Set the first series off before the carriage goes over the bridge, then the last set when it's in the middle. The whole thing will collapse in the water. But Red, that probably won't kill her unless I make it a big boom. Sure, she'll probably get hurt, but she's got enough guards with her that they won't all be on the bridge when it goes. They'll get into the water and have her out long before she drowns."

Ginny grinned viciously. "Have you ever heard that nasty rumor about crocolisks in the canals?"

Helix shrugged. "Sure, who hasn't? But that's just a rumor, Red."

Then it dawned on him, and Helix rubbed his hands. "Oh yeah. I know a guy. We can get you some real vicious crocolisks straight from Booty Bay."

"Just one," Ginny said. "But make it a good one, Helix. I'll see you get the coin."

It was expensive to import the crocolisk in less than weeks time, but Helix was true to his word. They chained the six limbed crocadilian under the bridge, with the chain linked to the explosives. They also dumped several gallons of cow blood into the canal right before the carriage came, to whip the beast into a frenzy.

Sure enough, Lady Knowles and her guards rode right over the bridge, looking around for danger. They eyed the red water with caution, but as the canals were a frequent dumping ground for all manner of refuse, they didn't pay it much heed. When Knowle's carriage rumbled over the bridge, Helix detonated the charges. The bridge collapsed, dumping the carriage into the water.

The guards shouted and wheeled their horses, making to dive into the water and rescue their lady. But then the water started to froth and churn. From with in the carriage, Knowles and her daughter screamed as the crocolisk bashed in the door and ripped at the flesh inside.

Despite the danger, the guards drew rifles and swords, firing into the water then jumping in to hack at the beast. By the time it was slain, however, both Lady Knowles and her daughter were long dead, ripped to shreds by the frenzied six legged monster.

The story was a sensation: everyone had heard the stories of crocolisks lurking in the canals, and to have a noble lady eaten by one was an incredibly juicy tidbit. No one ever found any traces of the explosives Helix had set: Everyone was too focused on the giant crocolisk itself. Helix had imported a monster, a 18 foot beast with teeth the size of daggers and a thick white hide. It was hung from a chain outside of the Stockades for week, on display for all too see.

Ginny naturally attended the funeral with Anduin, staying in the shadows and watching as the royal family looked properly mournful while Bishop Benedictus gave eulogy. Vanessa stood beside Varian, looking not in the least distraught. Her head was up, her back straight, and she wore her captain's naval uniform. She met the eye of the nobles who looked towards her, the ones who were still contemplating removing her from the equation. One and all, they backed down. The nobles were well aware that an 18 foot crocolisk hadn't been under the bridge that conveniently collapsed all on its own.

After the funeral, Anduin and Ginny took a walk in the royal gardens. Once they were alone, Anduin stopped and turned to meet Ginny's eyes. "Was Vanessa responsible for the deaths of Kyline and Estilla Knowles?"

"No," Ginny said without blinking. "She didn't know anything about it until after they were already dead."

Anduin nodded, still gazing into Ginny's eyes. "And you?"

"Do you really want to know?" Ginny asked.

Anduin hesitated, then shook his head slowly. "Father and I discussed it. He told me there are some things a king does not need to know, that he has to entrust to others to take care of. I know Lady Knowles was conspiring against the crown, even if we were never able to find substantial proof. Still, to be killed in such a gruesome fashion, outside the law…"

"Sometimes to save those you love, you have to be willing to break a few rules," Ginny said. "My job is to keep you safe, and by extension your father safe. If that means offing a few scheming nobles, Andy, I'll do it. But it's best I never have to tell you. When someone asks if you know what really happened, you need to be able to look them in the eye and truthfully say no. Because you're a terrible liar."

"Perhaps not as much as you think. But, thank you. I am glad my safety is in such capable hands," Anduin said, smiling. "Come, I've been growing some red roses over here, and I want to show you them. I'm no druid, but the Light nurtures all life. Gardener Brightstar has been teaching me-"

Ginny listened and smiled, enjoying her time with Anduin. A part of her felt guilty though: while she didn't regret taking the lives of those two harpies, she did regret having to keep secrets from Anduin. Still, it was for the best. Let Anduin remain good and pure. She would be the red hand of the kingdom, ready to keep the good safe by the blackness of her deeds.

 _Authors Note:_

 _I've done a few minor rewrites to the story, specifically to the language used when referring to a certain individual. The chapters affected are 17, 23, and 27. The overall story won't change much, but I realized certain word choices I made could make things confusing for a certain reveal later on, so I made some changes that would leave the situation a tad more ambiguous. If you just want to know what I changed, you can leave a review asking or PM me, but be aware that it's something of a spoiler so if you want to have the fun of figuring it out on your own just read carefully._


	29. Path of Blood III

Ten days after leaving Ginny, Ron and Mylra along with three squadrons of gryphon riders arrived in Dun Garok in the Hillsbrad Foothills. Originally, both Alliance and Horde forces had been staging out of Tarren Mill and Southshore, but soon after the formation of the Blood Vengeance Pact, the Forsaken had unleashed their plague upon the forces that had been mobilizing there. Now Southshore was a festering tomb, full of plague and death, and Tarren Mill was a fortress of the Forsaken. If there had been any lingering doubts in anyone's mind about the righteousness of the Vengeance Pact, it ended with the destruction of Southshore and the massacre at Tarren Mill.

"They struck just after sunset," a weary tauren warrior told Ron and Mylra. "Batriders came out of the clouds. We had been negotiating their surrender until the day before. They claimed that Sylvanas was putting down a rebellion from Putress. But then word came of the formation of the Blood Vengeance Pact, and the negotiations ended. I had been staying in Tarren Mill, which was still in Horde hands, but I'd come to Southshore for the day to formalize our truce with the Alliance."

I'd just left when the batriders descended. They dropped barrels of the plague everywhere. On the ships in the harbor, on the church, on the town hall. I saw children weeping for their mothers as their faces melted away. We tried to turn back, tried to help, but then they dropped plague on us! We had been their allies, their brothers in the Horde! Half my men died there. We tried to make it back to Tarren Mill, but I found the corpses of my commander and the rest of the Horde forces bloated corpses staked out along the road."

The tauren shook his head, his great horns swaying from side to side. "There can be no peace with the Forsaken now. I know Cairne was reluctant to join the pact, but this seals it. I will lead my braves to war, and we shall not be satisfied until the last Forsaken is put back into the embrace of the earthmother where they belong."

As for the Alliance troops, they were enraged at the destruction of Southshore, and the massacre of its civilian population. Only a bare handful of survivors had escaped, and some might yet succumb to the plague.

The next morning at dawn, Ron and the Gryphon riders retaliated along with elements of the human Westfall Brigade, the tauren Ragetotem tribe, and the trolls of the Reventusk Tribe. The gryphon riders struck first, crashing down from the heavens to drop bombs and call down thunder and flame upon Tarren Mill. They wiped out the bat rookery and slew what few riders were in the air, then sewed chaos and destruction.

Next came the Ragetotem, bellowing warcries as their drums thundered. The tauren crashed through the barricades and defenses around Tarren Mill, scattering the Forsaken defenders. Behind them poured in the Westfall Brigade, the human footman filling in the line as troll warriors provided support using arrows, spears, and shamanistic magic.

The Forsaken attempted to unleash their plague as they set fire to the town, retreating towards Silverpine forest. The gryphon riders destroyed the wagons before they could begin spraying the plague, and blew up the stockpiles, creating festering pits, but preventing the entire area from becoming infected. Ron took great satisfaction in lighting the fleeing Forsaken Apothecaries aflame from above. He had seen the remains of Southshore when they'd flown over it on a scouting mission the day before. He had no pity for these murderers.

For the next few days, the coalition met only scattered resistance. Occasionally they had to halt when the Forsaken had infested the roadway with plague, calling forward paladins, priests, and shaman to wash away the infection and make the area safe to traverse, but they met only token resistance. As they pressed into Silverpine forest, the latest atrocity became evident: Pyrewood Village, a Gilnean outpost on the edge of Forsaken territory, had also been bombarded with the plague, wiping it out.

This time, it took hours to clear. The plague had been present long enough that many of the villagers had risen as undead monstrosities, attacking anyone who came near. Horrifically, it turned out that they were also infected with the Curse of the Worgen, their huge beast shapes far more deadly than the human undead. Still, they were little more than mindless constructs, and were cleared aside quickly enough. Instead of attempting to take Pyrewood, Ron and the Wildhammer burned the town from above, dropping bombs and casting fire spells into the plagued village.

Reports came in that the blood elf, night elf, and draenei forces were pushing in from the Ghostwoods and Plaguelands into Lordaeron from the north. While there was little love lost between the Sin'dorei and Kal'dorei, the draenei were acting as peacemakers between the two long separated cousins. With the draenei acting as heavy troops, the night elf druids and light infantry, and the blood elf magisters and paladins, they were making short work of the Forsaken's defenses and rapidly approaching the Undercity.

With their northern forces in disarray, the Forsaken fell back, retreating from Silverpine forest. They did not go quietly however: Behind them, the Forsaken burned the forest and scattered plague where fire would not take. Ron found himself grounded as terrible gusts of wind from the raging flames made flying too hazardous.

After three days, the fires were put out by the efforts of the tauren, troll, and dwarven shaman calling upon spirits of rain and taming the raging fire spirits. Ron managed to trap several very powerful fire spirits, though he assured Reth that the flame spirit was still his favorite.

Once more the Blood Vengeance Pact advanced, and after nearly a month of marching and fighting, the northern and southern coalitions met up, surrounding the Undercity and readying for the siege to dig out the banshee queen and her forces and end the threat of the Forsaken once and for all.

/\\\/\\\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\\\/\

Ginny stood in the tent shoulder to shoulder with some of the most dangerous people in all of Azeroth. She recognized several night elf wardens in their hooded cloaks bearing their circular blades, Valeera Sanguinar of the Blood elves, and several agents of SI:7. While all of them were deadly, none of them were the sort to fight fairly, or out in the open. All were those who worked from the shadows, striking as hidden blades.

At the front of the tent stood Vanessa in her dark Defias leathers, along with Vol'Jinn of the Horde. Though the tent was standing room only, it was silent, with only the creaking of leather armor and muffled breathing to fill the air.

At last, Vol'jinn spoke. "You all be knowin' me. I be da left hand o' da Warchief. It be me who be keepin' the Horde safe from da shadows. And most o' ya should know dis Lady as well. Vanessa Vancleef, daughter o' Edwin Vancleef, and de promised o' da human king. But we no be here on official business today."

"We know why we're here," an orc with his face covered by a skull mask growled. "The Pact. The armies are digging in, preparing for a siege. But we all know that isn't going to work. Not here."

"How can you starve out the undead?" Valeera demanded. "They don't eat. They don't even sleep."

Ginny nodded. "And they'll just unleash their plague the moment we try a frontal assault. Everyone knows we'll lose hundreds, thousands, possibly even fail. You want us to open up the way."

"You're right," Vanessa said. She gestured to a map hung up on the wall of the back of the tent. "We're going to sneak in, destroy the stockpiles of plague, and open the way up for our troops. There are two primary ways into the city. One through the elevators in the old Throne room, the other through the sewers."

"Neitha o' dees ways is what we be usin' today," Vol'jinn said, gesturing to the map with a three fingered hand. "Der be other ways into da Undercity. But they be dangerous. We be usin' da old storm drains to be sneakin' in, for one. Dese drains be contaminated wit da plague. Dose o' you who be goin' in dat way need to be small. Gnomes, goblins, and some o' da smaller humans and elves, you be sneakin' in like dis. You gonna be wearin' special masks our engineers and paladin's cooked up. Don't be removin' them for nothing. De plague kills fast and sure."

"The other way that the larger races will be using is through a cave system that comes up from beneath the waters of Brightwater Lake," Vanessa explained. "We'll need to use specialized diving gear for that. We'll be guided by my ships quartermaster, Cookie."

"Mrrrgggllleee," Cookie said.

Vanessa nodded. "Exactly. This way has its own hazards. We don't know what defenses the Forsaken have there, so we'll have our own breathing apparatuses. However, be warned: even our masks and gear can protect us from the plague for so long."

"Once you inside o' da Undercity, dese be da known locations o' da plague," Vol'jinn said. "Dey be stockpilin' it in each o' da quarters. But de main stockpile be in de Apothecarium, especially here, where da Royal Apothocary Society be headquartered. You will be carrin' special explosives dat we gonna set at each o' dese locations. Once you set you explosives, you best be leavin' right quick mon."

"Vol'jinn will be leading the assault through the caves," Vanessa stated. "I will be leading the group through the drains."

"You?" a night elf warden demanded. "Aren't you supposed to be marrying the human king?"

Vanessa showed her teeth. "Indeed. But as my future husband has demonstrated, the royalty of Stormwind does not sit idly by on the front lines. Now, this mission is secret. Each of you has been hand selected. Do not speak of your orders to anyone outside of this tent. We begin the assault just after dawn tomorrow."

Ginny go her orders and kit, then hung back, waiting for Vanessa. Once the tent had emptied, she walked up to Vol'jinn and the captain, who were talking quietly.

"Do Thrall and Varian know about this?" Ginny demanded bluntly.

Vol'jinn stood up from his typical hunch, towering over Ginny, but she didn't back down. "Do you be questionin' our authority, girl?"

"No, but I want to know exactly what I'm walking into," Ginny said, folding her arms over her chest.

Vol'jinn slowly sank back onto his haunches, regarding Ginny. He glanced at Vanessa, who nodded. "Well girl, da Warchief done washed his hands o' dis operation. I been tellin' him for a long time dat de Forsaken did no belong in da Horde. But he got a soft spot for lost causes and strays. Most o' da time it be a good ting, but dis time Thrall's compassion done blinded him. No. And I no be tellin' Saurfang da Younger neither. He be an honorable orc who does no understand dat some battles cannot be won in da open."

"Varian knows about this operation," Vanessa stated. She hesitated, then added, "But not that you or I are involved. Are you saying you want out, Red?"

"No. We're the best for the job, so we should do it," Ginny declared. "But you're the one who has to share a bed with the man sometime in the future. You might want to rethink that."

She turned and left, leaving the troll chief and Vanessa to talk in private.

Once again, Ginny felt guilty for concealing something from Anduin. This time, she wrote a hasty note, then put it into his jacket pocket before she slipped out to the ruins of Lordaeron with the other infiltrators.

"They got you on this suicide mission too?" Helix asked, his voice muffled by the gas mask he was wearing. Their suits were full leather bodysuits that had been treated with special magical protection against the plague, and the masks attached to them to form an airtight environment. It was hot and uncomfortable, but better than dying of the plague.

"It's only a suicide mission if you don't survive, Helix," Ginny told the goblin.

"Wow. I am shocked by your insight, Red," Helix muttered. "Damn I wish Ripsnarl were with us."

"He's too big even in human form. Just be glad Red and I are small enough, though for her that might not be much longer," Vanessa stated. "Now hush. You two are on my team. We're going in through this storm drain here. Valeera is leading a team of SI:7 at this location, while Hulfdan Blackbeard and Boss Midna are going in here and here."

"So we just gotta pray those undead don't catch us sneakin' in?" Helix demanded. "This is a terrible plan."

"It's the only plan we have," Vanessa growled. "Now ask yourself this: what are you more afraid of? Me, or the plague?"

"I'm wearin' the suit aint I?" Helix demanded. "Sheesh. I think the both of you are scarier than a trade prince."

They found the storm drain easily enough, quickly removing the grate and slipping inside. Sure enough, the pipes were narrow, and dripping with noxious gases and residue from plague. Still, after an hour of crawling through the pipes, they arrived within the Undercity in its canals. The water was green, and glowed in the darkness of the underground city. Ginny was careful not to submerge herself in it, crawling out of the pipe and up onto a dark causeway.

Keeping to the shadows and concentrating on blending into the darkness, Ginny looked around and listened. Aside from the lapping of the water and distant echoes, there was nothing. There were wide streets nearby, but they stood abandoned.

"Where is everyone?" Ginny whispered as Vanessa and Helix joined her. She couldn't see them, but she could sense their presence in the darkness.

"This is spooky. We should get out of here," Helix hissed.

"No. We'll do what we set out to do. Come on. We're near the Apothecarium. This way."

The three of them slunk along through the shadows, keeping away from the guttering torches or the glowing patches of green. After a short time, they paused as the sound of a wagon approached. Soon they saw an abomination, it's many arms sticking out of its torso as it left a trail of bile in its wake pulling an empty wagon. A forsaken in apothecaries robes sat in the driver's seat, his eyes roving the darkness, searching for something.

"Be ready," Vanessa whispered. As the cart went past, the three infiltrators snuck aboard, hiding in the wagon under a tarp.

After, they trailed after the wagon, carefully stepping around the puddles of bile left behind by the abomination. As they entered into the Apothecarium, they saw far more Forsaken running about. There were stacks of the plague barrels everywhere, and abominations patrolled the causeway. Ginny wondered why the rest of the city had seem so deserted, but stayed quiet.

At last the cart rolled to a halt, and the Forsaken Apothecary got up to unhitch the Abomination. Ginny slipped forward, slicing his throat as Vanessa appeared next to the abomination, smashing a vial in its face. As the apothecary dropped dead, the abomination let out a groan, then tried to stumble forward, only to slump over, snoring.

"Leave that one, dump the body in the canal," Vanessa ordered. Ginny and Helix disposed of the apothecary as Vanessa examined the stockpile.

"Where can we set the explosives to do the most damage, Helix?"

Helix walked over, dusting off his hands and looking around. "I dunno captain. They got it all spread out like. We could blow up this particular stockpile, but how much good will that do us?"

"I don't know," Vanessa muttered, looking around suspiciously. "But I-"

Suddenly, voices approached, and the three Defias vanished back into the shadows, hiding under the cart and along the wall. Down the corridor came Grand Apothecary Putress, accompanied by half a dozen apothecaries and two abomination guards.

"-section is almost empty. We'll have the entire city trapped, just as you commanded my lord," one of the apothecaries was saying.

"Good. Soon we will crush both the Horde and Alliance! And when we raise their fallen warriors as our own constructs, we will sweep aside the living from this land!" Putress proclaimed.

"What of the demon's plans, my lord?" another apothecary asked. "What if he does succeed in summoning the Burning Legion?"

"Leave him to me," Putress said, chuckling. His laughter turned Ginny's bowels to liquid, and she pressed further up against the wall. "My new friend has been most...insightful. It is not in my nature to trade off the yoke of Sylvanas for that of a new master. Varimathras will in his own turn be betrayed by us. We shall create an undead paradise, along the lines that Aeonus has laid out."

"I do not trust the dragon, lord. Are they not living creatures themselves? Why would they wish to help remake this world into one in our image?"

Putress stopped right beside the wagon, underneath which Helix was hiding, looking down at the sleeping abomination. "Why is this abomination sleeping here? Who abandoned this wagon?"

"Bah, these constructs are lazy brutes. Without orders they simply stand or lay about," an apothecary growled, kicking at the abomination.

"We do not sleep, however," Putress growled, searching the half empty racks of plague barrels. "Something has-"

Without saying a word, Ginny and Vanessa appeared amidst the apothecaries at the same instant, slicing and stabbing with their daggers. An instant later, two bombs rolled out from under the cart and came to a rest at the abominations' feet. The dim witted constructs peered down in confusion, and both firebombs exploded, igniting the abominations and causing them to wail in pain.

Ginny drew her pistol and fired it point blank at Putress. The undead leader let out a cry and sank to one knee as Ginny and Vanessa finished off the rest of the apothecaries. However, as Ginny turned back to Putress, he cast a spell, drawing plague from the barrels surrounding them into himself. Ginny and Vanessa dived out of the way of the green foggy tendrils, and Putress stood as the plague gas enveloped him.

"So, you think to stop me? Fools! Here, in the seat of my power, I have mastery over both life, and death!"

Clenching his fists, Putress drew the gas into his body, then flung out his arms, sending out clouds of plague that sought to envelop Ginny and Vanessa. They kept away, climbing atop the racks of plague, and kicking empty barrels down at Putress.

The apothecary laughed as the barrels shattered around him. "Such paultry attacks cannot stop me! You cannot hope to succeed!" Putress began to weave a shadow spell, muttering to himself as the plague enveloped him.

"You're not the only one who plays with potions," Vanessa snapped, tossing down several vials that glowed with an icy blue light. The vials shattered on Putress, sending out an icy elemental blast. Putress hissed in pain as the cold air froze the plague, causing the clouds to turn to crystals and fall to the floor as his close became stiff with frost.

Ginny swifty reloaded her pistol, taking aim at Putress and firing again. He roared in pain as the bullet ripped through his shoulder, then extended a hand to more barrels of plague. The green mist enveloped him once more, mending his wounds.

"Guards! Come, destroy these fools!" Putress bellowed.

In the distance, Ginny heard shouts, and muttered a curse. She glanced down, noticing that Helix hadn't shown himself. Instead, she saw that in the shattered bits of wood, small black objects like marbles were now scattered. Realizing the goblin was planting his explosives around Putress, Ginny whipped several knives out of her sleeves, throwing them at Putress.

The Grand Apothecary flung up his arms, and the plague gas formed a barrier before him, corroding the knives to rust so that they bounced harmlessly off of him. "Ha! Your weapons have no effect upon me! Now, taste my creation!"

Tendrils of fog lanced out at GInny and Vanessa, attempting to evelop them in the plague. Ginny scrambled away, but some of the tendrils touched her. Her suit hissed and corroded at their touch, and Ginny felt like vomiting as she imagined the plague seeping into her body. She dashed away, escaping the tendrils as Putress laughed.

"Fools! You cannot escape! Soon the world will be covered in death!"

"Nah. Just a very small spot right where you are, pal."

Putress paused, turning his head to see Helix grinning at him from atop the cart. The goblin winked. "Sayonara, pal." The goblin flicked a lit match at the ground by Putress, who watched the tiny flame spin through the air. It landed amidst the shattered timbers, which caught alight.

"What? You think simple flames will-"

The first bomblete exploded, setting off a chain reaction. Helix had scattered bombs all around Putress, and a huge fireball enveloped him, knocking Ginny up against the wall with the force of the concussion. Helix jumped behind the cart, but ended up screaming as it was flung against the wall. Only Vanessa managed to duck into an alcove, avoiding most of the blast.

Groaning, Ginny got to her feet and stumbled forward, flumbling as she reloaded her pistol. She waved her hand to clear away the dust and bits of plague, then spied Vanessa standing over Putress. He was little more than charred bones at this point, but Vanessa doused him in holy water and oil, then set what was left alight.

"Best to be certain," she muttered.

Ginny nodded, stumbling over to the wrecked cart. She pulled Helix out, who was giggling uncontrollably. "Did ya see his face? 'Oh no, little fire won't hurt me,' then kablooie! Eyes went wide, just for an instant, then he was just a bunch of ash."

"Yes, charming," Ginny muttered. "But we've gotta get out of here. Can't you hear the Forsaken coming?"

Helix shook his head. "Nah. Ears are ringin' too bad. Leave me tots. I'm done for."

Vanessa appeared next to Ginny, taking Helix and settling him on the back. "The Brotherhood never leaves anyone behind, not even you Helix. Come on!"

They raced away as abominations and apothecaries came howling after them, running down the corridor blindly. As they rounded a bend, they found knives at their necks.

"Vanessa! What are you-" Valeera Sanguinar lowered her knife, glaring at the three Defias. "Nevermind. My team just finished setting our explosives. Here, into this drain. We'll slip back to the surface."

Ginny followed after the Blood Elf as a gnome and a goblin took Helix from Vanessa and dragged him up the pipe. Vanessa was right behind them, slamming the grate shut. A few moments later they heard the Forsaken trying to climb up the pipe themselves, but the abominations were far too large, and the apothecaries bulky robes couldn't fit.

"Get barrels of plague! We'll flush the rats out!" Someone yelled.

Ginny gritted her teeth and continued on, shoving at the gnome in front of her. "Go faster!"

After several teeth clenching minutes, they found themselves back on the surface. Everyone quickly climbed out, just as tendrils of plague began to waft up from below.

"Well?" Valeera asked, looking to Vanessa as she placed the storm drains cover back on, sealing the plague in.

"We found Putress," Ginny said. "He's dead. We never planted our explosives though. It seemed like everything was all scattered, and the city was mostly empty."

"We found much the same," Valeera agreed. "There was plenty of plague though. Let's get out of here before the bombs go off."

Several hours later, after a long decontamination shower and a through examination by a team of paladins and priests, Ginny found herself dressed in a soft white robe, sitting in the Commander's tent with Vanessa, Vol'jinn, along with Varian and Dranosh.

"Empty?" Dranosh demanded. "But how? Where is Sylvanas? Where are the bulk of the Forsaken forces?"

"We be findin' nothin' but demon's, plague, and a handful o' apothocaries and undead," Vol'jinn stated. "De demon Varimathras be dead. He was openin' a portal to da Burning Legion itself. I drove my blade into his chest myself."

"Putress himself mentioned that he no longer served Sylvanas," Ginny said.

Varian frowned, looking down at the map. "Our scouts reported that Agmand Mills was burned. Were those not the location of the Forsaken docks? Did any of our forces attack them?"

Dranosh and Varian conferred with the generals for a few moments, before coming to the conclusion that no Alliance or Horde forces had attacked the docks. "It was assumed the Forsaken burned those docks rather than give us an easy harborage to land troops at," Dranosh stated. "But what if that wasn't the case?"

"It seems a safe conclusion that the Forsaken suffered a civil war," Vanessa said, leaning over the map and frowning. "That would explain why the city was nearly empty. They killed each other off, and it looks like Putress won."

"Perhaps," Varian mused. "Or perhaps Sylvanus got wind of what we intended, and fled the Undercity with her supporters. Would a majority of the Forsaken sided with her?"

"Dat be likely," Vol'jinn mused. "But den...dis would mean de Blood Vengence Pact...it were all based on a lie."

Dranosh looked horrified. "If our cause were not honorable...then I have stained the honor of the Horde, and of the Alliance with my folly."

"Wait," Varian ordered, rubbing his chin. "How many people know this?"

"Only those in this tent," Vanessa said, looking around. "And perhaps some who infiltrated the city would have put the pieces together."

"The city is sealed?" Varian demanded, looking to Vol'jinn.

The troll chief nodded. "Yes, we be bombin' all the entrances. We could no blow up all de plague wit it scattered throughout the city. So we just be collapsin' as much o' the place as we could. It be takin' years for the Forsaken to be diggin' demselves out."

"And our engineers could ensure that would never happen," Varian said. "Your shamans specialize in earth magic, do they not? They could collapse the Undercity on top of itself given time."

Dranosh looked uncomfortable. "Yes, but, if the Blood Vengeance Pact is based upon a lie, we should not-"

"Were the Forsaken a threat?" Varian demanded. "Sylvanas was developing a plague that could wipe out all life on Azeroth. Do you think she would not have unleashed it? I think she and Putress disagreed only with the timing of its employment, not that it should never be used."

"He be right, Young Saurfang," Vol'jinn said, putting a hand on the young orcs shoulder. "Dat bitch were a knife poised at our backs. One day, she would be betrayin' da Horde. De Pact was justified."

"Are you saying...are you saying that we bury the truth, and carry on as if the pact was fulfilled?" Dranosh demanded, looking horrified. "But Sylvanus is still out there! We must find her, beg her pardon, and restore her to-"

"Dranosh, if it were not for this pact, do you think you and I would sit here, now, as brothers in arms?" Varian asked quietly. "Do you think the Horde and Alliance would truly be at peace for the first time in history?"

"Well, no," Dranosh admitted. "But-"

"But nothin." Vol'jinn shook his head, leaning back on his heels and grinning. "We be accomplishin' what we set out to do. De death o' Hellscream be avenged. De Forsaken be destroyed or banished. And now we can be turnin' our attention to da real threat: Da Scourge. And if Sylvanas do be showin' up again, well…" He shrugged.

"Then we put her back in the grave where she belongs," Ginny stated. "And make sure she never gets to tell her side of the story."

"We'd best start a few rumors saying she was a scapegoat," Vanessa mused. "Get everyone used to it so we can dismiss them now and paint her as a coward who slipped away."

"More lies?" Dranosh demanded, stunned. "But why?"

"Because this is what a king must do," Varian said, slamming his fist onto the table. "We must bear the sins, Dranosh. We must allow our honor to be stained, so that our people can live in safety and peace. Or do you wish to undo all the pact has done? Because if this were revealed to be an act of naked aggression, what would happen?"

Dranosh sat quietly for a long time, minutes tick past. Ginny shifted in her seat, wondering if the young brown skinned orc had a fatal accident in his immediate future. She glanced at Vol'jin, who grimaced, then showed a knife behind his back. He was ready to do what was necessary as well.

At last, Dranosh spoke, his tone exhausted as he sagged in his seat. "Lor'themar would claim it was a naked act of Alliance aggression to destroy his closest ally and allow them to attack Quel'thalas. He would move troops south to secure the area as a bulwark against Stormwind and Ironforge. Thrall would be forced to contest Lordaeron and its borders to honor his alliance with the Blood Elves. You would respond in kind, moving troops north to solidify your position and attempt to reclaim the land for the exiles in your kingdom. We'd fall to squabbling, and Arthas would sweep out of Icecrown to cover the world in plague and death."

"And so?" Vol'jin asked, his tone gentle, but the knife behind his back poised to strike.

Dranosh spat and grimaced. "And so the shaman of the Horde will work with Alliance siege engineers to bury the Undercity forever. We will announce that the Pact has reclaimed Lordaeron, but still holds so long as Sylvanas remains at liberty. If we find her, we tell her through back channels to never show her face in Kalimdor or the Eastern Kingdoms. We have a few squabbles with the Forsaken. The Alliance and Horde work together against the common foe, never quite able to corner the bitch and bring her down. And so we have peace, but a peace built on a lie."

"A lie repeated often enough becomes true," Vanessa said. "And if we can have peace for just a few short years, perhaps we can build a more solid foundation."

"Hmph." Dranosh crossed his arms over his chest, looking as though he had just swallowed a bitter pill. "It is dishonorable. But you are right, Varian. It is necessary. What of our infiltration teams? Can they be trusted to remain quiet?"

"SI:7 knows the value of keeping secrets," Varian said, looking at Vanessa with a neutral expression. "They will not talk."

"De Shattered Hand will swear to silence, and cut out de tongues o' any who dare break it," Vol'jin stated. "I will personally put a curse on dem, and de loa will see that no one who spills dis secret be livin' for long."

"More dark deeds," Dranosh growled. "I don't like it." He glanced at Vol'jin, who had made his dagger disappear. "But I understand that it is what is needed. But what of the Warchief?"

"I will be tellin' him," Vol'jin said. "Thrall be wise. He will understand."

"Then we are in agreement," Varian said, looking around the table. "Sylvanas fled, leaving behind her most trusted supporters to spring a trap on our armies as she rallied forces to strike at us. We will need to remain vigilant, but can return our attention to the campaign against Arthas."

"Too bad we'll need to wait near a year to resume it," Dranosh growled. "Fall is upon us. It will soon be winter. By the time we redeploy our troops, Northrend's waters will be impassable, and the ground unfit for campaigning. We'll have to wait until the thaw in late spring."

"Time enough to train our troops in combined arms," Varian said, grinning at the orc. "The Horde and Alliance will fight together this time. I was impressed with your wolfriders: they're more mobile than my heavy cavalry, and they hit just as hard."

"Your siege engines are most impressive," Dranosh mused. "If we could have those to soften the ground before our infantry assaults, we'd take much lighter casualties."

"Time enough to speak o' such things later," Vol'jin said. "It be late. We best be cuttin' da orders for da city to be destroyed."

"I'll see to it." Varian extended his hand to Dranosh, who clasped it. "A heavy price to pay for peace."

"But a peace bought without blood is one that cannot be kept," Dranosh replied. "We will honor our the memory of Hellscream."

"Dat orc's death be doin' more for peace den he ever did in his life," Vol'jin muttered to Vanessa as they left the tent. "Don't tell Drannosh, he loved Hellscream like a brotha. But dat one was trouble. Thrall, he were groomin' Garrosh to be da next Warchief. It would have been disaster. But, I tink maybe things be working out for us now."

"I'd almost be willing to thank Putress," Vanessa chuckled. "But that would be taking things to far. I'm just glad we're on the same side, Vol'jin. You're a cunning one."

"De same to you, Vancleef. Or should I say, Queen Wrynn?" Vol'jin asked. He chuckled and offered a hand to Vanessa. "I do be expectin' an invitation to da wedding. We best be establishin' diplomatic ties now."

"Count on it," Vanessa said, shaking Vol'jin's hand. The troll turned and walked away, vanishing into the shadows.

Ginny glanced at Vanessa, who was frowning. "Did you tell him?"

"Yes." Vanessa let out a sigh. "We had a big long fight about it. But in the end, he said I had to do what I thought was best for us for our-" Vanessa bit her lip, looking at Ginny with consternation.

"What?" Ginny demanded.

Vanessa sighed. "Nothing, Red. It's just...damn. I never thought I'd feel trapped. I thought I was the one chasing him. Shows what I know."

"You don't want to marry Varian?" Ginny asked, confused.

"Yes. No! Urgh." Vanessa sighed. "Maybe what I want isn't all that important. Ragnaros' balls Red, I was just hoping to catch his ear, maybe get a few policies changed. And if I had to do that by slipping into his bed, well, he'd not too hard to look at."

"So, why'd you agree to marry him then?" Ginny demanded. "I mean, it's like you even like the nobility."

"Because I can change it," Vanessa growled. "I can make things better, for the people. And...and for my child."

Ginny raised an eyebrow. "I thought you said you weren't slipping into the king's bed just yet. You change your mind?"

Vanessa went pale. "No, I-look, Red, forget it. I do want to marry Varian. I think I do like the big lug, even if he is a noble. And hell, I get to be queen. That's not a bad gig, right?"

"Whatever, captain. I'm still your girl," Ginny said, shrugging. "I'll stick with you through thick and thin."

"Thanks Red." Vanessa reached over and hugged Ginny. "Dammit girl, will you quit growing? I think you might be taller than me already."

"Ha! You're just jealous because Varian's head and shoulders above you," Ginny laughed. "I'll likely be taller than any man I end up with."

"Oh, I don't know about that. Anduin looks like he'll have his father's height," Vanessa said.

Ginny blushed. "What? No, I'm just his-"

"Yeah, yeah. Just remember kid: I'm not the only one bound by fate."


	30. Champions of Light and Shadow I

There were many things that Hermione was prepared for. She had dozens of reference books on every kind of demon, from Dreadlords to Succubi, and had practiced summoning each of them. Her array of tools for engineering was impressive, especially now that they had K Lee's wagon back and could haul along the racks of screwdrivers, hammers, and arcane resonators. She had even reconstructed most of the spells she'd learned at Hogwarts, from a simple repairing spell to the levitation spell, though they were highly situational compared to just using fel magic or a summoned demon.

What she was not prepared for, however, was going vegan. Well, soul vegan at any rate.

"It's just the same," Hermione sighed, examining her stack of soul crystals. "I just don't get the same amount of power or well…" she blushed and fidgeted.

"You don't get off on it like you did before," Pizyap supplied from his perch atop her head. "Face it, toots. Draining the souls of animals just isn't the same."

"But it was wrong to take sentient souls. Right?" Hermione asked, looking up at the imp nestled in her hair.

"You are askin' the wrong demon," Pizyap laughed. "Look, if you like the souls of humanoids and stuff so much, just find a vrykul or something to kill, or one of those tuskar. No one would miss a tuskar."

"No, I'm sticking to my new diet," Hermione said firmly. "And I'm making Wilfred do the same thing. A nice mammoth or elk soul is plenty for our purposes. Besides, it would totally defeat the point of VOMIT if everyone knew we had to murder people to help those poor imps."

"Seriously, can we choose a new name?" Pizyap demanded.

"Do you have an idea of what we can replace Voices Opposing Making Imps Toys with?" Hermione sniffed.

"Literally anything else?" Pizyap offered.

"Well it's too late. We've already made up the fliers. It's time to go distribute them."

It was just after dawn, and Hermione happily wandered into the Argent Crusade encampment, with Pizyap clinging desperately to her head. "Pull up your hood, would ya? Seriously, like every other person here is some kinda paladin. This place creeps me out."

"Hush, people need to see that we're working to help free imps now," Hermione said, putting a sticking charm from her Hogwarts days onto a poster and then sticking it to a hitching post. The poster read:  
 **  
VOMIT!**

 **Every day, a poor imp is dragged through the twisting nether and forced to serve as the play things of warlocks and other summoners. Stop this heinous practice today by donating to your local Voices Opposing Making Imps Toys chapter. Meetings in Crystalsong Forest at sunset tonight!**

On it was a picture of an imp, which was supposed to look abused and neglected, with wounds and a brush and cleaning pan, but mostly just looked feral and dangerous armed with makeshift weapons.

Humming to herself, Hermione walked through the tents and makeshift structures of the Crusader's camp, posting her fliers. She was blissfully ignorant of the odd looks she received from the various soldiers and knights, who were deeply disturbed to have a warlock in their midst. It wasn't until the muttering started that Hermione realized that her presence was far from welcome.

"Damned demon lovers."

"Corrupted by the fel. They're all evil."

"By the Light, we should burn that one at the stake, and her imp."

Hermione felt tears come to her eyes, and started to look over her shoulder, worried. "I'm trying to be better," she whispered, but no one but Pizyap heard, and even the imp didn't really care. Hermione was just thinking of running out of the camp before things went further than just talk when she almost bumped into someone, carrying one of her posters.

"Hermione? Did you make this?"

"Harry!" Hermione immediately brightened, smiling and nodding. "Yes, I did! I've realized I've been doing things all wrong: Demons aren't toys, they're people too! And they should have rights!"

"I see," Harry said slowly, examining the poster. He glanced around at the other paladins, sighing and crumpling up the poster. "Hermione, I appreciate that you see to be...trying, at any rate, to be a better person. But even so, if you're going to run around sucking the souls out of people then I-"

"I'm not!" Hermione protested. She reached into her soul pouch and pulled out a handful of crystals. "I'm a vegan warlock now!"

Harry blinked once, very slowly. "You're...vegan? So...you don't eat dairy or animals? That seems...somehow contradictory."

"Oh no, I eat meat and dairy," Hermione said, briskly shaking her head so that Pizyap let out a yelp and had to hold on for dear life. "I mean I only subsist upon the souls of animals. I'm pioneering a brand of ethical warlockism that focuses on the humane aspects of draining souls, summoning demons, and using fel magic. After all, just because you're a warlock doesn't mean you have to be evil, right?"

"I...guess not?" Harry ventured. He looked concerned though, glancing at the poster Hermione had just put up. "You know what, why don't you come with me, Hermione. I know someone who's very interested in um, fighting for the rights of the oppressed."

"Oh, do you think they'd be interested in joining VOMIT? What about you and Impa? I'm sure if you sign up, people will be a lot more interested."

"Er, yes. I'll be sure to talk to Impa. Just...please come with me, Hermione."

Hermione followed Harry through the camp, feeling quite a bit better. She'd started to feel like she was all alone in this, save for Pizyap and her gnomish friends. But K Lee and Wilfred just didn't have the same passion for Impish Rights, saying they were done with the social sciences. They were back to working on the Thought Outsourcer, having discovered deposits of a mineral known as Saronite with interesting mind bending properties.

Harry led Hermione to a large tent at the center of the camp, near where quite a bit of construction was taking place. The crystalline trees had been cleared from a large area, and elekk and kodo were being used to tramp several circular arena's flat.

"What are they building?" Hermione asked curiously.

"With the Vengeance Pact's success in destroying the Undercity, we were hoping the fighting against the Scourge would resume," Harry explained. "But you've seen the passes: snow's building up, and the ground is frozen solid. Even here in Crystalsong where the weather is a bit better, it's too cold to be out campaigning. So the armies will sit idle through the winter. As such, the Highlord is creating a grand tournament, to bring together champions of all races in a celebration of might and arms. And to select the most powerful combatants to be sent into Icecrown Citadel to face Arthas."

"Oh, that does sound interesting. Perhaps I should set up a booth for VOMIT!"

Harry let out a heavy sigh and led Hermione into the tent, holding the flap open for her. Inside, she found many crusaders, workers, and even citizens of Dalaran kneeling and praying at various icons of the Light. Her lips pursed, and she glanced at Harry. "Look, I know you buy into this whole Light business, but I'm not religious in the slightest. VOMIT is a secular movement, and while we welcome allies, we'll not be constrained by religious ideology."

"Why don't you just talk to the Confessor. Maybe she can help you," Harry suggested, leading Hermione to the back of the tent to a private area. In the rear a screen was set up, with seats a little distance away for people to wait and give their confessions. There was already one person waiting, a strange looking draenei with a canvass covered package leaned up against her chair. She was wearing boots, which was odd for her people, and had her eyes closed as she was praying. Her skin was a very light shade of blue with a slightly red hue, and her horns were little more than nubs.

When Hermione saw the other occupant, she gasped. A full blooded demoness was talking to a person behind the Confessor's screen. She was dressed in brown robes that hid most of her frame, but she had her hood off to give her confession. Her rams horns curled about her head, and she had scarlet skin as well as long fangs.

"Goodness, I didn't realize you were so accepting of demons in the Argent Crusade. Maybe I can find some recruits here after all!" Hermione said excitedly.

To her shock, both the visitors in the confessor's area acted like Hermione had just hexed them. The draenei jumped up and picked up her bundle as if to swing it at Hermione with a look of pure rage on her face, and the demoness scrambled away, looking around wildly, her face a mask of terror.

"Peace!" Harry said, stepping between the draenei and Hermione. "Peace, friend. I brought her to see the confessor! I know she has an imp and all, but...well, she's trying to be a good person, and she sort of has this cause where she's trying to help imp's be free or something. I don't understand it, but her hearts in the right place."

The draenei starred at Harry breathing heavily, her eyes wild and her muscles tensed. The demoness was shaking, hiding within her cloak with the hood pulled up as she rocked back and forth.

"If you...if you say so, Sir Harry," the draenei said after a long moment, lowering her bundle. "I did not...Light, I thought you would be...But I suppose not. Forgive me. I was startled."

Hermione looked up at the draenei with wide eyes as she slowly lowered her bundle. She attached it to hooks on her back, then walked over and helped the demoness up. "Come, Rosalind. We should be going. I will finish my confession...some other time."

"Oh, Rosalind? That's a pretty name," Hermione said happily, waving at the demoness who was peering out of her hood with a very concerned expression. "It's the name of the heroine in _As You Like It_! My name's Hermione, I was named after the queen in _The Winter's Tale_. They're Shakespearean plays, but I suppose you wouldn't know them. Say! You're a demoness, would you like to sign up for my campaign for impish rights? I know the eredar are a different race of demons all together, but surely you must recognize that helping one species of demons escape slavery will be good for all of them. Here! I have a flier just for you."

Hermione placed a flier in the demoness hands, only barely registering that the draenei was ready to strike at her. She really couldn't stand draenei: Pompous beings full of their own righteousness with no curiosity or lust for knowledge at all. Even Impa was far too clingy with Harry.

"You are...you are helping imps?" the demoness said slowly. She winced, taking her friends hand and slowly standing. "I would have thought...well. Most warlocks, they are not, shall we say, much concerned about the well being of others."

"I was like that," Hermione said, looking down and scuffing the floor with her boot. "I treated Pizyap like a slave. Forced him to do unspeakable things. I was only interested in how I could use him to learn new things or discover new research." She looked up, scowling and clenching her fists, crumpling the posters she was still holding slightly. "But I've changed!"

She blinked, studying the draenei. She looked very different, dressed in a simple tabard and smock, but Hermione suddenly recognized her, though the battle glow of the Light was gone. "Say! It was thanks to you! You're Midna, I saw you with that cat Jasyn."

Now Midna jerked back, glancing quickly at Harry and looking like she'd just been caught with her hand in the cookie jar. "Yes, um, we'll be sure to tell Jasyn you're walking in the Light and that he doesn't need to find you and kill you. I'm sorry if that kept you awake at nights, bye!"

Midna quickly walked away, but Rosalind lingered behind. She studied the poster, and a smile tugged at her lips. She wiped at her eyes, smiling at Hermione. "I guess fate really can change. Thank you. You can put my name down on the list of those will wil help...VOMIT? Ugh. But yes, I will help VOMIT in the fight fight for impish rights. Just...maybe let someone else think of a name? But I must go."

"Bye! See you at the meeting! It's just after sunset near the ruins to the south of here!" Hermione called.

"Is it safe to come out yet?" Pizyap whispered, peeking up out of Hermione's hood where he'd hidden himself.

"Of course, why?" Hermione asked, puzzled.

"Jeeze, that was an eredar, pretty powerful one too. I thought she'd waste us for sure. Eredar, they're pretty touchy about bein' top dogs in the Legion. If they thought we was tryin' to undermine their authority...Sweet Sargeras I do not want to think about what they'd do to us."

"Hello?"

Hermione turned to see a woman in her mid thirties peeking around the screen wearing a priests gown and a confessors hat, her expression one of concern. She had warm eyes and somehow reminded Hermione of her favorite aunt who'd she'd always been able to talk to about anything.

"Confessor Paletress, I apologize," Harry said, bowing. "This is my friend, Hermione Granger, the one I've talked to you about. She...um, well, maybe you'd best tell the Confessor, Hermione."

Hermione eagerly showed the confessor her poster, babbling about imp rights, warlock veganism, and why the Confessor should really consider making a donation to VOMIT.

"I see. Thank you for bringing her to me, Harry," the Confessor said. She gave Harry a warm smile. "I think I'll need to talk with her for a while. Please, give my love to Impa, and good luck in your preparations for the tournament."

Harry bowed deeply, then left, turning to glance at Hermione. "Impa and I are staying with the squires in the northeastern section of the encampment. Why don't you come visit us for a meal sometime?"

"Oh, that would be lovely Harry. Could I bring Wilfred and K Lee? They don't get out enough I'm afraid."

Harry winced slightly, but managed to smile and nod. "All are welcome so long as they come as friends."

For some reason, that made Hermione feel all warm and fuzzy, and she waved to Harry as he left. The Confessor walked over to the entrance to her little corner, pulling a screen across the entrance and placing a sigil of light on it that indicated she was busy. Then she turned back to Hermione, smiling and bowing. "Would you care for some tea? It's been so cold, and sitting in here all day I don't get much opportunity to move about and warm up."

"Oh yes, tea would be lovely," Hermione said happily.

To her disappointment, it turned out that Paletress had meant some sort of herbal tea, not proper tea at all, but she smiled and accepted a cup. Paletress even got out a tiny little cup and filled with warm liquid, patting cushion she'd placed on a chair. "Please, why doesn't your imp join us. Pizyap, isn't it?"

"Ain't you some sort of priestess or something?" Pizyap demanded, peeking out of Hermione's hood once more. "It's like, against your religion or something to be around demons, right?"

"All may walk in the Light, as I have discussed with young Rosalind many times. Please, join us."

Pizyap hopped down, sipping at the tea. He made a face. "Disgusting. Not enough blood in it."

Paletress gave Pizyap a look that reminded Hermione of the one her mother had given her whenever she complained about her dinner when she was a small child. Pizyap looked down, and muttered something that might have been an apology. Nodding as if that was what she had wanted, Paletress looked up and smiled at Hermione. "Now dear, why don't you tell me a little bit about what your self. Harry's told me you come from another world. Surely that was a harrowing experience."

"No, not really. I just woke up one day here," Hermione said with a shrug, sipping at the tea. It was minty, with a bit of a citrus taste to it as well. It wasn't all that bad, and it was certainly warm and refreshing in the cold air.

"Why don't you tell me about that?" Paletress prompted. "I've heard you don't wish to go home to your original world. Why is that?"

To her surprise, Hermione found herself babbling about all sorts of things to Paletress as the kindly woman filled her tea cup, smiled, nodded, and asked short simple questions. She talked about how exiting her research was, how she did miss her family but thought Azeroth had more excitement, how she loved her work, but that sometimes he felt lonely, about how frightening it had been when she'd had to undergo puberty alone two gnomes who didn't know the first thing about human biology or comforting a scared girl, and how Hermione had increasingly thrown herself into her study of demonic magic and engineering in an attempt to find meaning in the world.

To her shock, by the time she had finished, it was well after dark. Granted, the sun was only up for a few hours with winter so close at the top of the world, but still she hadn't felt the time go by. Paletress had simply lit a few candles and provided Hermione with a meal of warm soup brought by a priestly acolyte.

"It seems as though you're really scared and lonely, Hermione," Paletress said gently. "You need friends, and someone to help you. I'm glad to hear that you've improved your relationship with Pizyap, but well, imps make poor confidants for a young girl. And as much admiration as I have for gnomes, it seems that K Lee and Wilfred are perhaps not the best parental models."

"I… I guess," Hermione sniffed. She'd cried several times throughout her story, hardly noticing as tears streamed down her face. Paletress and simply handed her a cloth and given her a hug, and let her continue talking.

Suddenly Hermione stood up, feeling panicked. "Oh no! The VOMIT meeting! I'm going to be late! Come on Pizyap, we've got to go!"

"Huh wazzat?" Pizyap looked up from the small nest of cushions he'd made for himself, having curled up and gone to sleep not long after Hermione began her long story. "Oh. Alright."

"Please, come back again soon, Hermione," Paletress said, smiling and standing to give Hermione a big hug. "I have enjoyed our talk. Just keep trying to walk in the Light, and you will find your path. If you are ever lost, talk to Harry. He is a good young man, with a deep faith and compassion. He cares about you. As do I."

"Thank you," Hermione whispered, returning the hug. She sniffed and wiped away her tears, then separated from Paletress and ran off with Pizyap clinging once more to her head.

She ran all the way back to the clearing where she was camped with Wilfred and K Lee, only to find them sitting around a cook fire. She stopped, feeling completely disheartened. Once more, no one had come.

"I suppose there's no need to call VOMIT to order, is there," Hermione said, trudging into the campfire light and struggling hard not to burst into tears.

"Oh, hello Hermione!" K Lee said happily. She pointed behind the wagon, to an old ruined building. "Actually, someone's waiting for you there! They said they wanted to join VOMIT!"

Instantly, all Hermione's woes were forgotten and she grinned hugely. "Oh, oh excellent!" she ran into the dark building, looking around "Hello? Is anyone here? I'm the leader of VOMIT, and I'd love to sign you up!"

There was a rustling noise, and Hermione turned to find Rosalind there, pulling back her hood and smiling at her. "I am here. The others...well, perhaps it is best if they do not know. You have met Jasyn. I do not think it wise for him to come. As for Midna, she thinks it unwise for us to be around you. I had to convince her not to tell the others. As for myself...I think it worth the risk."

"You think joining VOMIT would be dangerous?" Hermione said, puzzled. Then she slapped her forehead. "Of course! You're an eredar! The others are probably all convinced you're trying to destroy their social hierarchy and want to work to keep imps oppressed."

She grinned, walking over and grabbing Rosalind by the arm. "Well don't worry! We'll show them that new, more perfect order can be established where all demons are treated equally! Now, let's get you signed up for VOMIT and bring this meeting to order. Oh, and I have some literature on warlock veganism too!"

"That sounds nice," Rosalind said, smiling and allowing herself to be led back to the wagon.

Despite the fact that VOMIT consisted only of herself, Pizyap, and now Rosalind (K Lee and Wilfred were founding members, but didn't attend meetings anymore) Hermione conducted the meeting with full ceremony. Pizyap played along as usual, but Rosalind seemed genuinely interested both in Hermione's efforts to free imps from warlock slavery, and her theories on how a vegan warlock lifestyle could lead to better integration into the community.

After an hour and a half, Hermione brought the meeting the a close. "And of course, least we forget, thank you to our newest member Rosalind! Here, your official VOMIT badge and handbook!"

Rosalind examined the badge, which was made of cobalt with the letters VOMIT stamped into it. She carefully pinned it to her robe, then bowed to Hermione. "Thank you. This has been...well, something I've wanted for a long time. I am afraid I must depart now, and that we may not see each other again for a very long time. But I will tell others of your work. Perhaps they will take up the cause of...VOMIT… as well."

"Thank you!" Hermione said, grinning widely. "Please, take as many books as you need!"

Rosalind carefully picked out six more books, then waved farewell, walking off into the night. Later, Hermione lay in the wagon in her bedroll, listening to the others snores. She had been worrying that VOMIT was a lost cause, and that maybe she should give it up and go back to experimenting with the Thought Outsourcer and perhaps further experiments on the undead. But now, Hermione was certain she'd truly found something to do with her life. Smiling, she fell asleep, at peace for the first time in ages.

Despite her worries about what Harry would say about her, Hermione made herself go to dinner with him and Impa. To her surprise, it was actually quite pleasant, as Harry and Impa were willing to listen to Hermione's ideas and share a hot meal with her, even if it was usually plain fair. While Hermione wasn't as close to Harry as she had been back on Earth, it was nice to at least have someone to talk to. Even Impa was somewhat tolerable.

Even more than her dinners with Harry, Hermione enjoyed her tea times with Confessor Paletress. To Hermione's surprise, the priest never tried to convert Hermione or lecture her, only listening to her worries and giving her gentle advice. Hermione enjoyed the talks so much she even managed to get Wilfred and K Lee to come, which was when the trouble started.

Paletress was discussing the various challenges that the combatants at the upcoming Tournament would face, from fearsome beasts to undead that had been captured. Wilfred sniffered derisively and shook his head.

"Pah! A bunch of animals and mindless rotting carcasses. Why, if you wanted to give your fighters a real challenge, you'd have them fight a demon!"

"Wilfred! That's against the creed of VOMIT entirely!" Hermione protested.

The gnome shook his head. "Not an imp, minion, a proper, powerful demon, like a doomguard!"

"Oh." Hermione considered this, then shrugged. "Well, if it was a doomguard, I suppose it wouldn't be too bad. But only if it did want to fight!"

"We have been gathering creatures from Northrend to face the champions in the Tournament," Paletress commented. "We've found a giant yeti, some snowbolds, a magnatuar, and even two great jormungar. But a demon...that would truly test our champions mettle."

Wilfred puffed up, looking terribly proud of himself. "Well then, you are fortunate that you have I, Wilfred Fizzlebang, Master Summoner! I could call forth a mighty demon to challenge your champions, but keep it well bound so that it never harms any of them!"

"But what about the doomguard!" Hermione protested. "Don't forget, doomguards are living people too!"

"Ehh, not so much," Pizyap commented. "They're big jerks if you ask me. Kick around imps all the time. Hell, they're the ones that abuse us for the eredar half the time."

"That settles it then! Minion! You shall aide me in summoning a doomguard and proving that I, Wilfred Fizzlebang, am the greatest of all summoners!"

Hermione bit her lip, and glanced at Paletress. "Well, if you promise no one is really going to get hurt…"

"We will have clerics standing by to ensure no champion is too grievously wounded," Paletress promised. "And do not demons simply return to the nether and reform?"

"Yeah, it's not so bad," Pizyap declared, grabbing a handful of pastries and snarfing them down. "You resummoned me lots of times. You can just do that with this doomguard thing and call it done."

"I shall even modify the spell!" Wilfred vowed. "It shall be the most powerful doomguard ever to walk Azeroth, but it shall be utterly powerless, and bound only to my will!"

"I'm certain your skills will aid us in preparing to face the Lich King," Paletress said, smiling at Hermione. "We must all do what we can."

Hermione nodded reluctantly. "Well, I suppose it can't hurt to summon just one more demon."


	31. Champions of Light and Shadow II

Dawn came cold and clear on the first day of Argent Tournament, with a chill breeze blowing off of Icecrown glacier to stir the pennants and banners of the varied participants. The flags of every major faction on Azeroth were represented; each of the races and factions were sending their greatest champions. The banner of the Alliance flew over a great tent at the North end of the camp, the yellow lion on the field of blue seeming to roar its defiance against the icy wind. The red and black of the Horde flapped in the breeze over the encampment to the south, with iron and stone marking their structures.

Despite his affiliation with the Argent Crusade, Harry had martialed under the banner of the Exodar. Most of the Crusade had joined with their own racial factions for the tournament, a move that had been ordered by Highlord Fordring himself. Originally he had wanted the Crusade to stand together in unity, to show that both the Horde and the Alliance could work together against a common foe. But, with the renewal of the Blood Vengeance Pact and the current cooperation between King Varian and Warchief Thrall, the Highlord felt that it was now more beneficial for each faction to see its own sons and daughters of the Crusade standing with them.

The opening ceremony was held on a wide open field surrounded by wooden bleachers, with raised viewing boxes for the guests of honor. To open events, a great parade was held, led by the musicians of the crusade. The crowd cheered as drummers and trumpeters marched through the field, led by Highlord Tirion himself, wielding the Ashbringer atop a great golden charger. The Holy blade seemed to glow like the sun, and the Highlord's armor gleamed golden with power.

Next came the champions of the various factions in Northrend that opposed the Lich King. The wild and hairy ox-like taunka mounted on great mammoths and wielding obsidian spears came first, their stoic silence a sharp contrast to the mania of the crowd. Next came the tuskar, mounted upon great turtles. The walrus men had bone and ivory harpoons and seal leather armor, and jovially waved to the crowd, despite the laughter at their rotund appearances. Then came the frost dwarves, their grim stoicism a stark contrast to the tuskar. They were girded in cold steel and mounted upon great wooly rhinos that matched their masters stubborness. At their head was Muradin Bronzebeard, his iron half a grim reminder of the perils of this bitter land.

The crowd went silent as the black clad Knights of the Ebon Blade entered the field, their skeletal chargers bones clattering as they marched. The Knights skin was pale and stretched like parchment, and among them were members of all races, from the fierce orcs who had served under Ner'zhul in the Second War to the recently slain blood elves of Illidan's ill fated expedition. Though they had sworn to oppose their former master, few trusted the Ebon Blade, especially after the treacherous actions of the Forsaken. Still, they had great magic at their call, and the Highlord refused to turn away any who would oppose the Lich King, even undead.

The Kirin Tor received a much warmer welcome, with shouts and cheers at the marvelous arcane golems that bore the wizards of Dalaran onto the field. After them came the watchers of Ulduar, and the crowd gasped in amazement as the gigantic titan constructs came onto the field, led by Thorim with his lightning hammer. The watchers themselves were grim and silent, save for Freya, who smiled and waved at the crowd as flowers bloomed in her footsteps.

If the crowd had been amazed at the stone and iron giants, they sprang to their feet in disbelief at the next group: the Five Flights of Azeroth flew over the field, roaring and belching flame, acid, ice, sand, and molten rock. A few screamed in terror as the dragons flew overhead, but calmed when it became clear they were expected. The greatest number of dragons were scarlet, the Red Dragonflight, guardians of Life. They landed with their queen Alextraza at their head, a massive wyrm over eighty feet in length with long curving horns and great talons. She was accompanied by her consort Korialstraz, and her son Caelestrasz along with a dozen handmaidens. As the dragons landed, they shifted to humanoid forms, lining up before the audience in the guise of high elves, blood elves, and even humans.

Next came the green dragonflight, the second most numerous, led by Alextraza's sister Ysera the Dreamer. Though she was not as massive as her elder sister, Ysera was a long, lithe dragon with powerful wings that seemed to exist half in this world, and half in another. As she landed, the night elves all stood and bowed, offering prayers of thanksgiving at the arrival of the greatest servant of nature on Azeroth. The green dragons as well assumed humanoid forms, though they one and all took the appearance of night elves who were their favored friends among the mortal races.

Two black dragons landed in the field, both far smaller than the red or green aspects. One was female, known as Nalice and was the ambassador to the Wyrmrest Accord. The other was male, and his arrival brough shouts of rage and screams of terror: Nefarian, brother of Onyxia, and better known as Lord Victor Nefarius and mastermind behind the kidnapping of Varian Wrynn some five years ago. When he assumed his human form, he held a hand to his ear, seeming to smile at the cries of derision directed at him. Then he bowed, and linking arms with Nalice, took his place with the reds and greens, who kept a sharp eye on him. As for the Black Aspect, Deathwing had not been seen in years, and many prayed he never would be again.

Next came the last of the Blue Dragonflight. A war had been fought in Northrend the past year, a war fought, and a war won and lost. Malygos, once the Aspect of Magic, had been slain after his mad attempt to destroy all mortal life on Azeroth had failed. The blue aspect had fallen to insanity when he had awoken from 10000 years of slumber and seen the devastation wrought upon Azeroth by the ravages of magic, a force he was tasked to keep in check. Seeking to annihilate all who wielded magic, Malygos effectively declared war on every mortal race. His siblings among the other aspects had tried to restrain and reason with him, but to no avail. The Kirin Tor had hunted Malygos to his lair, and with the aid of the other four flights, slain him and nearly every last blue dragon. Kalygos the Blue and a handful of young drakes and whelps were all that remained. Still, they too came to oppose Arthas, and though their numbers were few, their magical knowledge was unrivaled in Azeroth.

Last came a lone bronze dragon, a female who assumed the form of a gnome. She shuffled nervously, hesitantly taking her place in line. Harry thought he recognized her from Ron and Ginny's descriptions: Chromie. But where were the rest of the Bronze Dragons, the Keepers of Time? Harry did not dwell long on the question as the dragons left the field, marching over to the stands prepared for them, and the Champions of the Horde and the Alliance marched onto the field.

First came Dranosh Saurfang and Bolvar Fordragon, riding side by side and bearing the banners of Stormwind and Orgrimmar; the yellow lion on blue, and the black clan symbol on red. The stadium roared with delight when the two champions clasped hands and raised their gauntleted fists to the sky, both bearing the blood red ribbons of the Blood Vengeance Pact. The Horde races to see their favored son Hellscream avenged, the Alliance to see Lordaeron cleansed and restored to her people.

Parading after the two high champions of the Horde and Alliance came the rest of the champions. Harry rode with Vindicator Maraad as his squire, and bore the banner of the Naaru as the glowing symbol of the light marked his forehead. Beside the draenei rode the blood elves, their traditional enemies. Lady Lindarin of the Blood Knights bore the scarlet hawk wings of Silvermoon as her grim warriors rode along side her. Once the bitterest of enemies of the draenei, the campaign through the Ghostlands and into the Plaguelands against the Forsaken had helped the draenei and quel'dorei to find common ground in their shared reverence for the Light, and for the Naaru.

The other races also rode in tandem: the dwarves rode alongside the trolls, putting aside their ancient animosity for the sake of their war against the undead. The tauren and night elves had always had cordial, if somewhat cold, relations, and renewed their bounds of kinship as the banners of Darnassus and Thunder Bluff marched together. The goblins of Ratchet had even been invited to march with the Horde in counterpoint to the gnomes, though they had both been forced to the back of the parade, as instead of horses or other reasonable mounts they had brought the most obnoxious machines imaginable. The goblins had motorbikes that belched noxious fumes and the gnomes rode mechanical ostriches that clattered and banged.

After the parade, the champions and their squires went to a great feast held inside of the stadium. Highlord Bolvar and Confessor Paletress sat at the high table as the representatives of the crusade, along with the leaders of the various factions represented. Harry sat at a low table at the edge of the feast with the other squires with his friend Artie who was squiring for Highlord Bolvar.

"I can't believe they chose me to squire for the Highlord!" Artie said for about the 100th time. He turned to one of their tablemates, a blood elf squire and elbowed her. "Lucky for us, huh? I bet you're glad you get to squire for Lady Lindarin. She's beautiful!"

The blood elf sniffed and sipper her wine glass. "Mother was rather insistent that I squire for her. But then again, I don't suppose anyone else would have really been suitable. She could have ended up with someone like you."

"You're Lindarin's daughter?" Harry asked, surprised. The two elves didn't really look alike to him, but then again, he didn't know much about elves.

"Obviously. I just said so. I am Salandria Lindarin. My mother Betrelia Lindarin shall win this tournament, for she is the greatest warrior of the sin'dorei, and therefore in all of the world."

"So say you," the night elf youth at their table laughed. "The children of the blood are scrawny weaklings who spend too much time in the sun. Elune shall favor Sentinel Evensong in this contest."

"Bah! As if elves could ever hope to best our champion! Dranoth is the son of Varok, brother of Broxigar! It shall be Orgrimmar that will win the champions cup!" the orc squire boasted.

The whole table was about to erupt in arguments when the tauren squire held up her hand. "Peace, friends. We are all representatives of our homes and races. It would look poorly for us to bicker. Let us speak not of things to come, but celebrate the victories we have already won, and enjoy one another's company."

The table settled down, but Salandria eyed Harry skeptically. "How does a human boy end up as squire to Maraad of the Exodar? Should not a draenei sit in your place?"

"I am a draenei," Harry answered. "To be draenei is to be the faithful exiled. While I am not born of Argus, I am not of this world."

"That's preposterous. Humans are as much a part of Azeroth as the quel'dorei or the tauren," Salandria snapped.

"Perhaps, but I am from Earth," Harry stated. "As are several of my friends, Ronald Weasley and his sister Ginevra, and Hermione Granger."

"Did you say Hermione Granger?" the gnomish squire piped up. "You don't mean the leader of the Vegan Warlock movement do you?"

Harry let out a heavy sigh. "Yes. She is…well, she has very strong passions regarding certain things that I disagree with her on a theological basis. But, I am grateful that she seems to be rejecting the ways of evil to walk the Path of the Light."

"I know Ronald Weasley. He is no from Azeroth himself," the dwarven squire put in. "He helped Brann Bronzebeard rescue Muradin from Ulduar and is known as Loken's Bane. Harry speaks true."

"Harry's a good man," Artie proclaimed, slapping Harry's back. "And if he thinks he's part draenei, well, more the good for him. Besides, he's practically pledged to Impa of the Exodar. He'll be a proper draenei before you know it Sal."

The blood elf wrinkled her nose. "Do not call me that. Address me as Salandria or Squire Lindarin."

"Oh, sure thing Squire Lin," Artie said, winking at Harry. "Just call me Lord Hawkwing."

The next morning Harry awoke early to help prepare Maraad for the joust, bidding Impa farewell just as the sun was rising above the mountains. First, he helped strap Maraad's ceremonial armor, made from shaped crystals that had been sung to fit the giant vindicator exactly, and gilded with gold and silver. Instead of his usual warhammer, Maraad bore a lance of peace, a simple hollow wooden pole that came to a blunted and padded tip. Next came the blessing, bestowed upon Maraad by Prophet Velen himself. The ancient leader of the draenei had journeyed from the Exodar to bear witness to the festivities and to help negotiate the various treaties and agreements needed to keep the Horde and Alliance forces working together smoothly.

Velen met with Maraad in his personal tent. Unlike the dwellings of the other faction leaders, which were universally grandiose affairs bestowed with banners and often large enough to sleep a company of men, Velen's tent was simple thick canvas. He slept upon a thick pallet of straw with linen blankets and his clothes were stowed in a woolen sack. The only concession to his rank was a small crystal array that provided heat to the ancient prophet. He smiled sheepishly when he saw Harry and Maraad glance at the warmer.

"I fear I am getting old. This cold bites into my weary bones, and I needed something more than my blankets and the blessings of the Naaru to keep the chill off."

"Prophet, you know that we offered you a palace to stay in, a building of sung crystal that our singers would have constructed for you to stay in with comfort and befitting your station," Maraad said. He laughed and shook his head. "A small warming crystal that looks as though it has seen much use is hardly an extravagance."

"I am but a servant, not a king," Velen said, shaking his head. He stood from the wooden stool he'd been resting on, and extended his hand to Maraad. "I do not require palaces, for it is the Light we should glorify, not this old man."

Maraad knelt, bending his head so that Velen's hand rested upon his boney brow and horns. "Once more I am awed by your grace and humility, Prophet. Please, give this unworthy warrior your blessing, that I might show the strength of the Light and the power of the Naaru upon the field of battle."

"Go, with the blessing of our people, of the Naaru, and of the Light," Velen said, and his hand glowed slightly for a moment. Then he winked at Maraad. "And for the sake of this old man, unseat every last one of them. I shall be cheering for you, my child."

"Of course! I am a Vindicator of the Hand of Argus! I cannot be defeated so long as the Light is within me!" Maraad strode from the tent, and Harry made to follow after him until he felt a hand on his shoulder.

"Stay a moment, young man. I must speak with you," Velen said.

Harry flushed, shuffling back into the tent. Velen gestured to another stool, seating himself once more. Before he could speak, Harry blurted, "Impa and I have kept our selves pure, Prophet. We do intend to pledge ourselves to one another, but we walk in the Light. I confess I have been sorely tempted some nights, and I have thought impure thoughts, but we have not-"

Velen burst out laughing, causing Harry to come to a screeching halt in his babbling. After a moment, the prophet wiped at his eyes. "I forget sometimes how the young think," he chucked. "It has been long since I felt such needs, but I do remember the touch of a lover and the heat in my loins in my younger days."

Harry turned bright red to hear the prophet speak of such things, but the old draenei smiled at him. "Do not fear, young Potter. I am not here to judge you. Though if you wish to pledge yourself to young Impa, come together to my tent, and it shall be so. You must treasure every moment you have together. I well remember my wife, and my son. They have been lost to me now for… well, a very long time. But I still treasure the memories, even after all these millennia. While you and Impa have one another, make each moment one of joy. There will be time enough for sorrows later."

"I…thank you, Prophet. We had thought we were too young, and did not wish…but if you think it wise, then-" Harry stopped again, collecting himself. "Forgive me, Prophet. You did not call me here to speak of such things. Please, how can I serve the Light?"

"Such a serious young man. Have you no time for frivolities? Ah, nevermind. It is for the best: time races forward for us all. Tell me, Harry, what do you know of this scar upon your forehead?" Velen traced a finger over the lightning bolt upon Harry's brow, and for some reason his touch caused the scar to tingle as it had not in years.

Harry gingerly touched the scar, frowning. "I have not thought much of it of late. I know it was given to me by the dark wizard who killed my parents, back on Earth. Voldemort was his name. But he is gone now, and no longer a threat." Harry thought of something, and hesitated, but spoke no further.

"You have something on your mind?" Velen prodded. "Speak; I would hear of it."

"Well, my friend, Ronald Weasley, he told me of a strange vision he was shown by the dark god he slew," Harry said. "He claimed to have seen my death at the hands of Voldemort, but he was a lich of the Scourge. But that is impossible, isn't it?"

"It is not," Velen said quietly. He shook his head, resting his chin upon his hands. "Tell me, where is Ronald now? I would speak to him."

"He is here," Harry said. "With the dwarves. His sister Ginevera is with king Varian's company, she is the prince's bodyguard. And Hermione is here as well, but…"

"Ah, your friends from another world. Hmmm. Four of them? Yes….yes I suppose there should be more," Velen mused. "Have you met all six?"

Harry started, surprised. "Ron mentioned that Khadgar of the Kirin Tor said there were six of us. How do you know such things?"

"I am not called a Prophet for nothing. I see the dark shadows of the future, and on occasion the Light illuminates them such that I see clearly. It was upon your and your arrival in Azeroth that I was gifted with such clarity. A dark and terrible future…but I recently I have seen another vision. Another path through the darkness into the Light."

Harry waited for Velen to say more, but he did not. Finally, the prophet waved Harry away. "Speak with Impa. If you two are set upon your path, come and see me. Make what Light you can together."

"Yes, prophet," Harry said, and ran out of the tent. He completely forgot about his duties to Maraad, running past the Vindicator as he mounted his elekk and to the tent he shared with Impa. When he didn't find her there, he ran to the stadium where the joust was to be held. Somehow, even in the massive swirling crowd, he was still able to locate her.

"Impa!" Harry called, pressing up through the stands to where she was sitting with Ron and Mylra. "Impa, the Prophet calls for us!"

"Harry?" Impa asked, standing hurriedly upon seeing him. "What is it? What has happened? Why does the Prophet call for us?"

Oblivious to everyone around them, including Ron and Mylra, Harry embraced Impa and kissed her full upon the lips. She was startled at first, but soon folded herself into Harry, leaning down to kiss him and wrapping her tail around his leg. When they broke apart, they were both breathing hard.

"I…Harry, what brought this on?" Impa managed.

"Mate, is something wrong? Aren't you supposed to be with Maraad? They're starting the joust soon," Ron said, coming to put his hand on Harry's shoulder. Ron put hand on his hip where his weapon would have been, but at the tournament such things were forbidden.

"Impa, will you marry me?" Harry asked, going down on one knee in a fashion he vaguely recalled from Earth. "The Prophet has given me his blessing to see us married this very day."

Impa gasped and sank down to her knees in front of Harry, her eyes wide. "He…he truly said such a thing? But…but I am barely thirty, and you-"

"Oh bloody hell," Ron groaned. "This isn't because of that damned vision I told you about is it? Look, that was all nonsense. You're both too young to-"

"Ronald, stuff it," Mylra ordered, elbowing him in the gut. "Let them have a moment."

"Yes, Harry," Impa said, embracing him. "I will pledge my life and love to you. And do so gladly."

The two immediately sprang up and ran back down the stands, with Ron and Mylra in hot pursuit. Ginny leaned out of the Stormwind box, looking down at them with a confused expression.

"Bloody hell Ron, where's the fire?" she demanded.

"Harry's going to get married," Ron shouted back. "Because he's a great big blithering moron."

"Now?" Ginny demanded. When Ron gave an affirmative, she stuck her head back into the box and yell something, then jumped out, landing on a railing and sliding down to run beside Ron. "Ragnaros' flaming ballsack Harry, couldn't you give us at least a little warning?"

Harry was too obviously ecstatic to say anything, but he did stop and turn when there was a great cry from the crowd and shouts of panic from the Stormwind guard. He turned to see Anduin Wrynn floating down on wings of Light, his brow furrowed in concentration as he channeled a spell. He landed beside Ginny and straightened his tunic, smiling. "I heard there was to be a wedding? And congratulations, Sir Harry, Lady Impa. May the Light embrace you."

"Thank you," Impa said, grinning so widely she seemed half manic. "We're very happy."

"ANDUIN!"

The prince flinched, flushing and turning around to see his father leaning out of the royal box as Vanessa Vancleef slid down a banner, Helix and Ripsnarl close behind her. The crowd went silent, watching the royal drama play out before them.

"Oh, yes father?" Anduin managed, standing straight and planting his feet firmly so that he was between the king and Ginny.

"What is the meaning of this? What are you and Miss Weasley doing? And why is Sir Harry not with the Exodar champion?" the king demanded.

Before Anduin could come up with a diplomatic response, Harry and Impa hurried forward, holding hands and grinning like loons.

"We're getting married!" Impa said happily, waving at the king.

Harry nodded enthusiastically. "The Prophet has given us his blessing, and he told us to hurry!"

"Ah, yes, and well, as Miss Weasley is the sister of Harry's best mate, she must attend of course," Anduin stated. "And, why, as she is my bodyguard, I did not think it reasonable for us to be parted. And of course, I think of Sir Harry and Lady Impa as friends, and must wish them well upon their impending nuptials."

The crowd buzzed with whispers, most confused as to who these youths were, though Harry made out "Bane of Loken" and "Slayer of San'layn."

"What the hell Red," Vanessa hissed, coming up to Ginny. She'd slit her fancy dress straight down the middle as it were a riding skirt, and had a dagger and pistol in her hands. "I thought you were in danger or something."

"I was, er, trying to keep Harry and Impa safe?" Ginny offered. "I am a bodyguard after all."

"HARRY!" As if the situation was not confusing enough, Hermione ran up through the crowd, which easily parted for her as she had Pizyap perched atop her head and was wearing a massive sign that read **VOMIT: Free Demons Now!** "Why didn't you invite me to the wedding?"

Harry saw Hermione was near tears, and quickly made a soothing motion. It was Impa who stepped forward and took Hermione's hands though, kissing the confused warlock on the cheek. "You are, of course invited Hermione. Harry just proposed to me two minutes ago. We were going to come find you."

"Oh. Well, I suppose that's alright then. I'm afraid I don't have a proper wedding gift however," Hermione said, going from tears to bubbling. "But congratulations!"

"Yeah. Mazel tov and all that," Pizyap said, cowering away from Anduin and Harry and peeking over Hermione's head.

She reached back and plucked the imp off her hair, frowning at him. "Since when do you know Hebrew?"

"He brew what? Look, put me away before the paladin sees!" Pizyap hissed.

Before things could deteriorate even further, Prophet Velen stepped out onto the stadium floor from the high box, accompanied by his bodyguards.

"Ah, Harry, Impa. I see you have found one another. I confess, perhaps I was a bit unclear. While I did mean for you to make haste in seeking me out, I thought perhaps we could wait until after today's events at the very least. We did, after all, have a joust planned." The Prophet bowed in the direction of Highlord Fordrings box. "Apologies, Highlord. I am afraid these two young lovers have been caught up in the moment, unaware of the events the great have planned."

All eyes turned to look to Tiron, who stood, bowing to the Prophet in turn. "Not at all. It is for such things that we fight: the love of two young people, the hope and joy that marriage brings to all people. How fitting that two lovers, from two different races, should be joined today! After all, do not we, the people of Azeroth, come together in union today to celebrate the peace we have made and make common cause?"

The crowd whooped and cheered, causing Harry and Impa to flush and look down.

"Good going, mate," Ron muttered, elbowing Harry in the back. "You bloody well nearly caused an international incident."

"Oh be nice Ron," Ginny sniffed. "I think it's sweet. Don't you, Anduin?"

"Of course." The prince bowed to the Highlord and raised his voice. "Highlord, might I beg a boon of you?"

Fordring nodded, extending an open hand to Anduin. "Speak, Prince Wynn. What boon does Stormwind ask of the Crusade?"

"Might we postpone the joust, however briefly, and allow my friends Sir Harry Potter and Lady Impa of the Exodar to be wed this day?" Anduin asked. "Let this not be a simple festival of arms, but a celebration of all life! Let us come together in unity not just to oppose the Scourge, but the celebrate the life and love of family that we all hold dear, no matter our race or creed!"

Harry saw King Varian smiled and nod approvingly at his son out of the corner of his eye, and felt himself relax slightly. Highlord Fordring nodded gravely, then turned to the most powerful men and women and Azeroth. "Guests of honor, what say you? Shall we see these two lovers joined in the Light this day?"

"Let it be so! The elements will it!" Thrall bellowed, raising his fist.

Varian nodded, extending his hand in blessing. "Let the goodwill of all peoples bear witness to this union, and may it bring these two young lovers joy."

The crowd roared in acceptance, and Harry and Impa walked together out onto the sands of the arena, kneeling before the Prophet. He extended his arms, his palms hovering over the heads of the two lovers, one human, one draenei.

"Today, we come before the Light," Velen said, his voice calm and even, but carrying to every nook and cranny of the massive arena. "Who is it that seeks the blessing of the Light?"

"I, Harry Potter, once of Earth, now of the Exodar, so come."

"I, Impa daughter of Midna, once of Draenor, now of Azeroth, do come."

"What is it that you seek?"

Impa looked up and smiled at Harry, squeezing his hand. "We seek to be made one in the Light."

Harry grinned back, unable to believe this was actually happening. "We who once walked alone wish to walk together, from this moment until death take us or the Light forsake us."

"The Light sees you, Harry Potter, Impa daughter of Midna. To walk not alone is a good thing; we were created not to go through the trials of the Light alone, but together. But to walk in unity is not an easy thing. Do you understand what it is you ask?"

"I will carry my wife's burdens, her strong back and protector. My blood shall spill before her blood, and I shall treasure her life and pleasure greater than my own. So I, Harry Potter, do pledge."

"I shall be my husband's place of rest, his safe haven in the storms of life. I will submit to his guidance, following him along the paths of life. So I, Impa daughter of Midna, do pledge."

"You value the life and love of each other above your own; this is good. But to embrace one another is to forsake the love of all others. To those your mate is a friend to, you must be a boon and comfort. To those who are the enemies of your mate, you must be bitter foes. Are you willing to do this?"

"I shall know the love of no other; my wife shall be the only one to share my bed and heart all my life. To those who give my wife rest, I pledge my help. To those that would harm her, I shall be wrath and fury. This, I, Harry Potter, do pledge."

"Never again will I long for another; my husband shall be the only one I lay down with, the Light and love of my heart all his days and mine. To those who aide my husband, I will give succor. To those who would harm him, I shall send down lightnings and rain fire upon."

"So you swear, and so the Light and the Naaru hear. Let their no longer be two in the eyes of the Light and of mortals: become one in soul and spirit."

Harry and Impa rose and embraced, laughing and crying as they kissed. The crowd began to cheer, then gasped and went silent.

Harry looked up to hear a rush of wings, as great shapes descended from above. He instinctively shielded Impa as she glowed with electricity. In a moment though, they both relaxed, as the dragons landed and took humanoid form.

First came Alexstrasza, the Lifebinder, at her side Chromie. Her sister Ysera came next, followed by Nalice of the black and a blue dragon female named Lanigosa.

"Um, well, wasn't there supposed to be a bit where you can raise objections?" Chromie demanded, waddling forward in her gnomish form. "You seem to have skipped that part!"

"It is not traditional in draenic weddings," Velen said calmly. "Is there an objection you wish to raise, young warden of time?"

"Oh!" Chromie looked nervous, glancing up at Alexstrasza and Ysera. "Do…do we have objections? This isn't…the time stream is very unstable right now! Perhaps this isn't the right time?"

"Be calm, little sister," Alexstrasza said, smiling at Harry and Impa. "Was it not you who said that fate needed to change for the mortal races to have hope?"

"Love is a great force, both in the dream and in the waking world," Ysera murmured. Harry realized her eyes were closed, and she was slightly translucent, as if she were an image or projection of some kind.

"Hmph. I wish to see how this plays out," Nalice muttered, crossing her arms over her chest. Though she was in human form, her eyes smoldered, and she seemed to be looking at Harry and Impa as they were some sort of tasty snack.

"The pathways of the heart are as the flows of magic," Lanigosa said, smiling at Impa. Though she was in the form of a mature high elf, she was clearly the youngest of the dragons, her other form that of a much smaller dragon than the others. "Both must be let loose, let they be strangled and die away."

"I don't understand, why are you here?" Harry said in confusion.

Impa bristled, reaching for a hammer that wasn't there. "If you do have an objection, then you should leave. Nothing you say can change what we have done here!"

"Be at peace, young one," Alexstrasza said. She smiled, and beckoned Harry and Impa forward. "Let the blessing of Dragons be bestowed upon this union."

Harry looked to the Prophet, confused and concerned. He had heard dragons on Azeroth were mostly good, but this was too strange for him. Velen smiled in response. "It is well. Go. Accept the blessing; this is the path of the Light."

Swallowing, Harry and Impa stepped forward, then knelt before the mighty dragon queen. Alexstrasza rested her long nails upon Harry's head, and he was shocked at the warmly radiating from her. He noticed that small flowers had bloomed under her feet, and a vibrant feeling of life and health seemed to radiate from the Red Aspect.

"Let the blessing of Life be laid upon you, Impa Potter," Alexstrasza said, breathing out a warm breath over the draenei. "May your daughter be strong and healthy, and blessed by the Light and Life. And upon you, Harry, may your seed be strong, and your body ready for the tests ahead. May you see the life you sow grow up strong and healthy, and may you live long and prosper."

Harry felt a surge of vitality as his muscles rippled, and tried not to blush as his loins swelled with blood and life. He kept his head down as Alexstrasza stepped away, and Ysera came forward to rest her hands upon the new couples heads.

"May the blessings of nature be upon you: May the dream of life be one of joy for you upon this day and for many to come. May your children know peace, and may the world be blessed by your union as you are blessed for one another."

Next Nalice stepped forward. Harry flinched as she lay her hand upon his head, but her touch was shockingly gentle.

"My flight has little left to offer in blessing for mortals," Nalice growled. Then she sighed. "But I have seen the future. Even my father's madness must come to an end. May your life be free of corruption. May the forces of darkness and madness be driven back by your hand and your child's. And may my end be swift, and my death merciful."

With that, Nalice jerked away and stalked out of the arena, her confusing blessing still ringing in Harry's ears. Before he could puzzle it out, Lanigosa laid a gentle hand upon Harry's head. "Be hidden, young one. Be not known by your foes of old and enemies new. Let your bond be dimmed, and be warded from all who would find you and wish you harm. Until the appointed time arrives, let not a single grain of sand pass away. Let time be bought with the price that was paid."

Then Lanigosa stepped away, and Harry looked up, baffled. Then Chromie threw herself onto Harry, sobbing uncontrollably. She kissed him upon his cheek, her face slick with tears. Then she buried her head in Impa's bosom, shaking with sobs as she clung to the kneeling draenei. Impa looked up, shocked, awkwardly patting the back of the gnome as if she were a weeping child, despite the fact that she was truly a massive dragon that could have crushed Impa with a single talon.

Finally, Chromie seemed to get control of herself and stepped back, wiping at her eyes. She tried to smile at Harry and Impa. "Just…just be happy, alright? For as long as you can. And…and please, don't let it happen like it did. I don't want to lose you again. The price…the price was too much for me the first time. I can't pay it again."

"Um, ok?" Harry said, looking to Impa.

Impa eyed Chromie for a long moment, then nodded. "I shall. I remember the words of Georgina. I do not understand them, but I remember."

Chromie let out a long breath, then laughed merrily, scrubbing at her eyes with the backs of her hands. "Oh good! Well, I must be going them. Bye bye!"

And just like that, the gnome vanished, leaving only the three dragons standing on the sands. Alexstrasza nodded. "We shall remember the sacrifices of our brother and his children. Take heed, mortals. My sister paid her price. See to it that you honor it."

With that, the three dragons took their natural forms once more, and flew up and out of the tent, leaving a stunned crowd behind. For a long moment, nothing was said, the crowd seeming to hold its breath as Harry and Impa knelt in the sand.

Then, Highlord Tirion stood and raised his hands. "May your marriage bring you joy! And now, let the games begin!"

The crowd roared in delight, but as Harry and Impa left arm in arm, they couldn't help but feel that their wedding had not been the most significant even they had witnessed that day.

That night, after the first day of the joust had concluded and the camp was lit by torches and rang with the drunken songs of celebrants, Prophet Velen meditated alone in his tent. He sat upon his pallet of straw, his eyes closed as he peered into the future. The door to his tent rustled and opened, as an armed and armor stranger stood in the opening, her cloak billowing as a massive sword glowed upon her back.

Velen opened one eye, then closed it again, smiling. "So, you have come. Sit, child. We have much to discuss."

Midna knelt on the ground, settling her cloak about her and adjusting her blade as she rested before the prophet. "What have you done?" she demanded.

"Given you a fighting chance," Velen said calmly. "Now, speak to me, child. What is it you plan? How can we save Harry Potter from Voldemort, and by extension, two worlds from the Scourge?"


	32. Champions of Light and Shadow III

Sometimes, it was hard to be happy for other people. Hermione tried to be happy for Harry and Impa, she really did, but they were so insufferable and inseparable, always kissing or holding one another, that it was more than a little annoying. Hermione told herself she was unhappy because she didn't get to spend anytime with her friends, but she knew that wasn't at the heart of it. A big part of her wished she had someone who loved her as much as Harry and Impa loved each other, and more than a bit of her wished that it was her that Harry loved, not Impa.

Instead of brooding on her feelings, Hermione tried to shove them away and throw herself even further into her work in VOMIT and in promoting the vegan warlock lifestyle. Unfortunately, aside from Rosalind, Hermione found no new recruits. She was beginning to despair of ever finding anyone else to join her crusade, when the day of the final joust arrived.

The jousting had lasted several days, with feasting and celebrations between each round. After several rounds, four champions had emerged as the most skilled: High Crusader Adelard of the Argent Crusade, Crok Scourgebane of the Knights of the Ebon Blade, Vindicator Maraad of the Exodar, and Lady Lindarin of Silvermoon. Personally, Hermione was torn between rooting for Maraad, as Harry was his squire, and Crok.

While she had put her research into the undead largely on hold, Hermione was facilitated by the Knights of the Ebon blade. She had tried to interview many of the undead of the Scourge, but with little success. The Forsaken had been another matter, able to hold intelligent conversation and seemingly just as alive as any non-undead individual. However, they were now either extinct or fled into obscurity, and Hermione could no longer study them. The Knights of the Ebon Blade, on the other hand, were very much still present, and also entirely undead.

Unlike the rest of the combatants, the Knights of the Ebon Blade's encampment was away from the main areas of the tournament, and kept much to themselves. Most people stayed well away from the Knights, and when Crok tilted, it was never for him that the crowd cheered despite his great skill at arms and his many victories. Hermione felt that it was her duty to make up for this, and hastily created a banner that read: VOMIT and Vegan Warlocks for SCOURGEBANE!

Several people laughed at the banner, thinking it some sort of joke, which made Hermione all the more determined to cheer for the undead orc. To her surprise, after Crok defeated Runok Wildmane of Thunderbluff, the death knight rode his skeletal wolf over to where she was holding up her banner.

"Interesting choice of banner," Crok said, his voice reverberating with a strange echo. "Do you mean to insult me, fleshling?"

"No!" Hermione snapped, hurt that her chosen champion was insulting her. "I'm showing my support for those who have also chosen alternative lifestyles such as undeath. Everyone just needs to learn to be more accepting: there is nothing wrong with being a warlock or a death knight."

Crok chuckled darkly, shaking his head. "You think I chose this? Well, perhaps I did, in some ways. A warlock, eh?" Crok eyed Pizyap, who was snoring in Hermione's lap. "You think fel magic is some sort of toy to summon pets with?"

"Pizyap isn't a pet, he's an intelligent being like you or me! He's just not very interested in jousts. Besides, I can summon other demons as well, but I'm now morally opposed to binding demons against their will. VOMIT seeks to find a way to free all imps bound against their will by fel magic, just as you once were by the Lich King. Perhaps I should research just how you managed that! We could find a way not just to free the imps, but all of the Scourge!"

"Now that would be something," Crok mused. He eyed Hermione thoughtfully. "You are a friend to Harry Dragonblessed, are you not? One of those rumored to be of another world. Thank you for your support, Hermione Granger."

With that, Crok departed, leaving Hermione feeling rather vindicated. Later that evening, K Lee and Wilfred ran up to Hermione as soon as she approached the wagon.

"We've done it!" K Lee crowed. "After years of research and testing, it works!"

"I knew my genius would finally prevail!" Wilfred cheered, hopping up and down in triumph. "At last we have succeeded!"

"Did you finally get the Thought Outsourcer working?" Hermione asked eagerly as they sat down for a warm cup of tea. "Was it the Saronite?"

"Indeed," Wilfred declared, nodding seriously as he accepted a mug from Pizyap. "The metal has some very special properties when it comes to both souls, and mind control. I plan to use it as we draw our summoning circle for the upcoming test in the Trials of the Crusader."

"Are you planning on mind controlling the demon we summon?" Hermione asked curiously.

"Pah! There is no need! I shall be commanding the demon with my awesome powers! It shall be forced to obey my every whim!" Wilfred stated confidently.

Hermione nodded slowly, keeping her gaze focused on her cup as a plan formed in her mind. Later that evening, while Wilfred and K Lee were asleep, Hermione snuck into the wagon and pulled out Wilfred's SQL Codex.

"Hey, watcha doin'?" Pizyap asked, hopping up onto Hermione's back to peer over her shoulder.

"Shhh!" Hermione hissed. "I'm going to modify the spell so that I'm given control of the demon when it's summoned. Then, I'll use the Thought Outsourcer on it so that no one gets hurt."

Pizyap scratched at his chin with a talon, then shrugged. "Yeah, OK. Say, could we modify a spell so that a demon gets control of the summoner instead?"

"Yes, but then the demon would immediately kill whomever is summoned," Hermione said patiently. "And I don't want that."

"Oh. Yeah OK that makes sense I guess. I mean, I don't actually give a felhound's ass if any other demons get freed. I'm going back to bed." Pizyap hopped down to curl back up in Hermione's sleeping bag.

After she was done, Hermione crawled back into the bag and poked at Pizyap. "Do you care about VOMIT at all?"

"Huh? Oh, sure, about other imps I do, a little. But I mean, other imps never liked me neither. No one ever really liked me. 'Cept you," Pizyap added.

"I understand the feeling," Hermione said softly, curling up with Pizyap. He was very warm to the touch, and sort of like a cat. Except he had horns, talons, fangs, was intelligent, had scaley leather skin, and could summon fireballs. So rather not like a cat, Hermione supposed.

"Eh don't be so hard on yourself. I mean, you got them friends of yours right? And what's her name, the eredar."

"Rosalind," Hermione said softly. She shivered, pulling herself deeper under the covers. "You know, I've always liked that name. It's very pretty. And I've a fondness for the bard."

But Pizyap was snoring softly, already back asleep, and Hermione soon followed.

At the joust finals, it came down to Lady Lindarin against Crok Scourgebane in the finals. Maraad had been knocked out by the blood elf champion, and Hermione had been told it had been a great test of skill between two combatants who had hundreds of years of practice at warfare. However, the draenei had no tradition of jousting, and Maraad was used to fighting as a dragoon, not a mounted knight, unlike Lindarin who had participated in dozens of tourneys and usually fought upon her charger. That experience had won out, and Hermione had sought out Harry to comfort him.

To her disgust, he was busy kissing Impa, and didn't even see her approach. She left in disgust, feeling rather irritated her kind gesture hadn't been recognized, and rather guilty that she was irritated because Harry had a lover and she did not.

"I'm older than him you know," she grumped to Pizyap. "Almost a full year. I'm sixteen and he's only fifteen and a half! It isn't fair!"

"Eh, you got that thought outsourcer. Just zap some poor sap and make him your squeeze," Pizyap suggested.

"No, that would probably be immoral," Hermione huffed, then immediately began to fantasize about several of the more handsome squires as her mind slaves, like Artie Hawking, who had rather large muscles in addition to a roguish grin.

Crok faced down the Blood Knight in the last joust, with Hermione eagerly cheering him on once more. Lindarin was the crowd favorite, with even Harry rooting for the Blood Knight to overcome the Ebon Blade champion. Hermione seemed the only person cheering for Crok at the end of the tilt, and glared around at her friends, daring them to protest. Ron looked like he wanted to murder Hermione when she unrolled her banner, but Harry put a hand on his shoulder and whispered to him, and Ron contented himself with grumbling half heard insults to undead and warlocks into his mug of ale.

In the end, it came down to the tilts. Crok had unnatural stamina and strength, and his mount could not be spooked nor could it tire, as it was also undead. He was also skilled at arms, and did not seem to feel the biting cold of the wind nor react to any blows or wounds he took. His lance was always leveled with deadly precision and skill, and he had a steady hand. However, he was predictable and unimaginative in his strategy, always going full tilt, never dodging nor twisting his body to absorb blows.

Lady Lindarin was perhaps not as strong, and while she could call on the Light, she did also tire and grow weary. Her mount was a flesh and blood charger, though one that was exceptionally well bred and was just as much a warrior and combatant as she was, unlike Crok's nearly mechanical mount. Her tactics were always subtly different, always shifting slightly or coming from a new angle when she sensed opportunity or weakness.

The first tilt was a draw, with neither lance shattered nor rider disturbed. The second tilt saw Lindarin lose a lance as well as the fifth, while Crok's lance shattered on the third and the sixth.

In the end, at the final seventh title, Lindarin twisted at the last moment, striking Crok at an odd angle, while deflecting his lance with a twist of her shield and causing it to break. She was unable to unhorse Crok, but her lance did not shatter. Crok's did, getting caught when Lindarin's charger turned into it slightly, breaking the wooden lance. Crok bowed in the saddle, then rode off without ceremony as the crowd roared and Lindarin was showered with praise and presented with the winner's cup.

Hermione slunk away from Harry and Ron who were celebrating, sneaking outside. She found Crok dismounted and leading his skeletal mount off to the Ebon Blade's tent, ignoring the jubilation behind him. The second place ribbon was stuffed into a saddle bag, seemingly ignored.

"I thought you did brilliantly," Hermione called to Crok's retreating form.

The Death Knight turned, eyeing Hermione. "What do you want, fleshling?"

"Well, I mean, you just took second place at the joust! That's something to celebrate, isn't it?" Hermione asked.

Crok turned away. Unlike Hermione's breath, his did not steam in the cold air. In fact, his chest did not rise nor did it fall. The only sign of life was that he moved and spoke. "The time to celebrate will come when Arthas is slain."

"Well, what will you do then?" Hermione demanded. "I mean, once the Lich King is defeated, what will the Death Knights do?"

"What we must," Crok answered. "We do not live. We do not hope. We press on. Until the end."

With that, Crok left, leaving Hermione standing shivering in the snow, clutching her banner in her mittened hands.

"What a jerk," Pizyap muttered from under Hermione's hood. "Can we go back where it's warm now? I'm freezing my tail off here."

After the joust, there was a week of feasting and celebration, as well as other smaller contests of skill at arms. There were archery contests, which the Night Elves handily swept, drinking contests, which the dwarves dominated then complained ran short of liquor, and races of all kinds. Hermione found the entire process boring and dull, and spent her time working on perfecting the Thought Outsourcer and researching names of demons to summon with Wilfred.

The Thought Outsourcer was truly a marvel. Thanks to the saronite infusion, it could now safely be used to mind control a subject for several minutes before adverse effects emerged, and those were minor nosebleeds and headaches at first. It took over half an hour for really serious side effects such as passing out and death to occur, though Hermione thought that was mostly because they were just mind controlling beasts and being a squirrel made her get motion sickness. The deaths were probably because she was accidentally eating the tests subjects soul.

Pizyap was extremely disappointed he wasn't allowed to use the Thought Outsourcer, claiming that it was "bias against imps."

"Come on, let me control you for just say, one minute," Pizyap begged Hermione. "I want to see what it's like to be tall. You let K Lee mind control ya after all!"

"K Lee is also a woman, and she respects my privacy," Hermione sniffed. "You'd probably make me grope myself or do something equally lewd."

"You'd enjoy it if I did," Pizyap grumbled. "You need to get laid."

"Pot calling the kettle black," Hermione snapped.

Pizyap rolled his eyes. "Pfff. Shows what you know. I don't got a sex drive."

"You're male. All males have a sex drive, and a very improper one at that," Hermione sniffed.

"Oh I'm male alright, but I ain't got bits. Those drop off if ya don't use 'em. See, if a young male imp get's taken by a female, they attach us to themselves. Our limbs fall off and we go blind and stupid and just spend all day fertilizin' her. End up lookin' kinda like a leech, cept instead of sucking we just keep humpin'."

"That's awful," Hermione gasped, going slightly green. "And you...want to do this?"

"Oh sweet Sargas no. I stayed the hell away from all the brood mothers. I'd be my own imp, thank you very much. Sex is disgustin' and awful and kids are horrible. I don't know why you're so obsessed with it."

"Well Harry makes it seem nice," Hermione muttered.

Pizyap shrugged and hopped onto Hermione's shoulder. "Yeah and he's a paladin. Who knows what goes through that twisted psycho's brain. Probably nothin'. Paladins are pretty dumb. Say, what if I mind controlled him?"

Hermione didn't even dignify that with a the idea of Pizyap controlling Harry for certain activities was oddly appealing.

After the New Year, but before the start of spring, the great contest of arms began. Once more, the champions of each race assembled, but this time they fought together as one. The beasts of Northrend the Crusade had assembled were indeed impressive, and powerful. No single champion could have defeated Icehowl the yeti, a massive beast easily 50 feet tall and capable of breathing out blizzards and with the strength to crush armor and bones.

However, he was poorly prepared to face the wrath of the ten champions chosen to face him, five from the Alliance and Horde appiece. With a combination of steel, sorcery, and teamwork, the yeti was slain, as were the jogermunder and magnataur over the course of several days. Hermione mostly ignored this though, preparing for her own personal role in the event: the summoning of the great doomguard. When the time came, Wilfred and Hermione marched onto the stadiums sands, drawing a great summoning circle.

"I have selected the Mighty Demon Suxxaraj to be your next challenge!" Wilfred proclaimed to the assembled champions. "He is a fearsome doomguard, known throughout the cosmos! His potent spells and great strength will put to shame the paltry creatures you have faced thus far!"

"We are ready," Vindicator Maraad rumbled. "Summon this demon, warlock. I have faced doomguards in the past. It shall be no obstacle."

Hermione took a deep breath, then began the incantation along with Wilfred.

\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/

Up in the stands, Pizyap was grumbling to himself. He was sitting atop Hermione's cloak, underneath which was the Thought Outsourcer, which was now in the form of a large helmet connected with some wires to a large ray gun. Hermione had made him promise not to use it, and frankly the little imp didn't quite have the courage to whip it out and have some fun, not when he was sitting with so many paladins and priests who would love nothing more than an excuse to fry him. He was supposed to sneak the device down to Hermione so she could use it to control the Doomguard, but he was having second thoughts.

"Why should I care of those stupid champions get a little roughed up?" Pizyap muttered to himself. "Like half of them are paladins, and the other half are beefed up warriors. They can take a kicking. Hermione just wants to have some fun. Never let's me do anything."

"Is this seat taken?" a soft voice asked.

Pizyap waved his talons. "Buzz off, unless you want to sit next to a warlock and a demon. And don't even think of zappin' me. I got connections, see. Hermione's friends will Ron, who's sister is pals with the human king and Harry's some sort of muckty muck with the draenei so-"

Pizyap trailed off when he looked up and saw a demoness staring down at him from within the concealing confines of her cloak. He let out a yip of distress and dived under the cloak, peering out and trembling slightly.

"Er, look, I know you're an eredar and all but I ain't done nothin' to ya, and I got some friends who is paladins and such and they would really like to do some smitin' on their off time so...wait. Are you that Rosalind who came to that stupid meetin' that one time?"

"I am," Rosalind said, sitting down next to the cloak. She lifted it despite Pizyap's squawk of protest and let out a heavy sigh. "I see she brought the Thought Outsourcer. What does she plan to do with it, I wonder?"

"I ain't sayin' nothin," Pizyap growled, jerking the cloak away from Rosalind to hide the contraption. "What's it to you?"

"Everything, and nothing. It seems fate is determined to play out the same as before. Tell me, does Wilfred plan to summon Suxxaraj?"

"Yeah," Pizyap said, scratching at one of his horns and peering up at Rosalind in confusion. "You know him?"

"All to well, and not at all," Rosalind said, peering back at the circle where Hermione and Wilfred were finishing up their chant.

"Wow. I mean, I know eredar ain't used to explainin' themselves to imps, but could you be any more cryptic? Sheesh, you sound like a dreadlord."

"Silence," Rosalind hissed, stiffening. "He comes."

A rip in space appeared in the middle of the circle, like a lightning bolt of nothingness that did not fade. Great mystic hands appeared, latching on to the rift and widening it like a doorway. Through the gateway, a dark figure stepped, and Pizyap let out a soft groan.

"Oh smite me. That's not a doomguard."

"AH-HA!" Wilfred shouted, flexing his tiny muscles. "I have done it! Behold the absolute power of Wilfred Fizzlebang, Master Summoner, you are bound to me now, de-" The gnome warlock cut off, swallowing and taking a step back as the figure resolved from the darkness.

It was not a doomguard. Instead of the winged and hunched figure of that breed of demon, a tall, straight backed, arrogant shape appeared standing on cloven hooves and bearing a large staff. The figure grinned, showing yellowed teeth as fel flames flickered in his eyes.

"TRIFLING GNOME! YOUR ARROGANCE WILL BE YOUR UNDOING! I AM JARAXXUS, EREDAR LORD OF THE BURNING LEGION! BY BRINGING ME TO THIS WORLD, YOU HAVE DOOMED IT! I SHALL OPEN THE GATEWAY TO ARGUS, AND BRING FORTH THE MIGHT OF THE BURNING LEGION! I SHALL BECOME THE RIGHT HAND OF SARGARAS, REPLACING THAT FOOL ARCHIMONDE AND SURPASSING EVEN KIL'JAEDEN HIMSELF!"

Swallowing, Wilfred firmed his stance. "No! I am in charge here! I shall banish you back to Argus, and summon the proper doomlord!"

Highlord Fordring began to shout orders as the champions circled the eredar and Argent Knights and soldiers of the Horde and Alliance poured onto the field. Rips in the fabric of reality began to appear all around the stadium as the crowd screamed.

"AND PERHAPS YOU WOULD HAVE SUCCEEDED. HAD YOU NOT BEEN BETRAYED!" Jaraxxus snapped his fingers, and with a scream Wilfred burst into flames. His blackened bones collapsed to the ground as Jaraxxus turned to Hermione, who was trembling and staring up wide eyed at the demon lord. "I MUST THANK YOU, LITTLE WARLOCK. BY INTERFERING WITH THE SPELL, YOU ALLOWED ME MY FREEDOM UPON MY ARRIVAL. NORMALLY I WOULD SLAY ANY WHO WOULD DARE CALL UPON ME, BUT UPON THIS DAY I FEEL GENEROUS. YOU SHALL BE REWARDED: YOU ALONE OF ALL THE PATHETIC MORTALS ON THIS WORLD WILL BE PERMITTED TO SURVIVE, AND TO SERVE THE BURNING LEGION."

"A-a-actually," Hermione stammered. "I wanted to talk to the higher ups in the Legion, about impish rights you see. They've been treated very badly and,-" Jaraxxus sliced his arm with a nail, then flicked the blood into Hermione babbling mouth. She accidently swallowed, then screamed and fell as she began to convulse.

"IF YOU SURVIVE, I SHALL TAKE YOU AS MY CONCUBINE. I AM FOND OF EXOTIC WOMEN. NOW, COME FORTH, SOLDIERS OF THE BURNING LEGION! YOUR MASTER CALLS!"

The rents in space began to grow and demons began to pour forth. Four armed shivarra warbling their hideous warcry. Fel hounds with their slobbering maws and writhing head tentacles that ate the spells of the mages and priests. Hordes of imps that shrieked and hurled flame. The foot soldiers of the legion, the Fel Guard, armored in black obsidian and bearing cursed blades. Towering infernals that burned with fel fire and struck out in mindless fury. And a dozen other kinds of demons, each twisted and corrupted by the power of the fel. The champions and soldiers tried to press them back as priests and mages tried to close the portals, but with the civilians panicking and rioting, they couldn't organize.

"Hermione!" Pizyap shrieked. "Oh fel, she's gonna die! He's gonna kill her or rape her or somethin'!" The imp turned pleading eyes upon Rosalind, who was eyeing Pizyap thoughtfully. "Look, I know you're an eredar too, but you've gotta help her! She's, well, she's the only person I have gave a crap about aside from myself. She's kinda my friend. So like, talk to Jaraxxus and make him stop, or hand her over or whatever. We're demons! We'll be fine if they turn this place into a hell hole. Be like home."

"You care for her? Truly?" Rosalind asked, and Pizyap frantically nodded. Reaching down, Rosalind picked up the Thought Outsourcer. She placed the helmet upon Pizyap's head, tilting it so his eyes were just visible under the brim. Then she placed the ray gun in his hands. "One way or another, I shall not allow this world to fall to darkness. If you wish to save Hermione, may your aim be true. Choose well, Pizyap the Imp."

With that, Rosalind drew Val'anyr from under her robes, and leapt down to the stadium floor. She unleashed a wave of Light, which struck a group of demons and the portal that had issued from, turning them all to ash and mending the hole. Another one soon opened though, and Rosalind was pressed back along with the other mortal defenders.

Pizyap looked at the Thought Outsourcer, then back up. He looked to Hermione, who was still thrashing about in pain, then to the bedlam. Even with Rosalind, the Legion might still prevail against the defenders of Azeroth. If they established a beachhead and slew the greatest champions of mortals at the same time, they could overrun the entire world. Pizyap had seen it happen before.

"It would be sorta nice. But... Hermione wouldn't like it." With a sigh, Pizyap raised the ray gun and pointed it towards Hermione. "Well, guess I can just make her. For the best anyway." Closing his eyes, Pizyap fired blindly.

An instant later, Pizyap felt burning pain all over his body. He collapsed to the ground as his mind felt like it was lit on fire. This wasn't what he wanted! He wanted to force Hermione to his point of view, not experience her pain. He tried to break the connection, but he didn't know how. He realized he was probably still pulling the trigger, but he didn't know how to stop. Suddenly, the burning faded, and he felt like he was yanked into the air. A moment later, he groaned and tried to sit up. To his surprise, he found himself looking down on Hermione, who was still groaning and twitching. She was...small?

"What happened?" Pizyap groaned, and forced himself on his hands and knees. His legs felt all funny, so he didn't try to sit up. He glanced around to find himself surrounded by paladins and priests and warriors and all sorts of scary champions, who were slowly advancing on both him and Hermione. In a panic, Pizyap raised his hands.

"No! Look, I can explain! See, Hermione had the Thought-thingy as a backup! Yeah! So, see, if that demon broke free I could, um, zap it! And like, pacify it or something. But then something went wrong and she summoned Jaraxxus instead of Suxxaraj, or rather Wilfred did. Ha! You see him fry? Um, anyway, I um, I don't see that eredar guy anymore. So! Problem solved. And a big tough bunch of paladins like you wouldn't beat up a poor little innocent imp and a little girl, would you?"

Highlord Fordring pushed himself to the front as the champions silently halted. "Just what tricks are you playing, demon? What happened to the portals you opened? Where have your minions gone to?"

"Huh?" Pizyap blinked and tried to stand up, but his legs didn't see to work right. He fell flat on his ass, nearly sitting on Hermione who was still very small for some reason. He might actually be bigger than her. Hell, he thought he was probably bigger than Fordring. How'd that happen? He was only about a foot and a half tall. And Fordring was huge, easily six foot.

"Look, no tricks, see? I'm just an innocent imp. Well, you know, innocent for an imp. I'm um, a rights activist! Yeah! You heard of VOMIT? Well, let me tell you pal, I was a founding member! We're going to free all the imps. And them...er, turn us all into good guys? Reform ourselves? Right! We'll be reformed imps! Just like Hermione! She's a reformed warlock! Don't even drain people's souls no more. Just small animals and stuff. Nothin' no one will miss, cept that one cat but that was an accident."

"You are no imp," Vindicator Maraad growled, stepping forward to stand beside the Highlord. "You are one of the treacherous eredar! Let us slay my fallen kin, and be rid of his stain upon the honor of the draenei!"

"Pal, I think most draenei are nuts cause you follow them big wind chimes around, but you sir are crazy. Me, an eredar?" Pizyap laughed, though it came out more nervous than humorous. "I'm clearly just a harmless little imp. Never betrayed the draenei at all! And the ones I did kill, my master made me do it. Honest, I never wanted to genocide anyone. Much."

Before Maraad could answer, there was a shriek from behind Pizyap, and he turned around to see an imp that looked an awful lot like him standing on a bench and wailing loudly.

"Foolish imp! You have meddled in the affairs of your betters! Release me at once, and I shall make your end swift! If you do not, then I swear upon my title as lord of the Legion that your torment shall last 10000 years!"

Just then, Hermione groaned and stood up. "Ugh. What happened?"

Pizyap winced. "Um, nothin' toots. But you, ah, you might not want to go look in a mirror. Like, ever."

Hermione's hair had all fallen out, blackened and burned it lay trampled on the ground beneath her. Upon her head, two curling rams horns had sprouted. Her eyes were green and burned with fell fire, and her skin had turned run as her nails elongated into talons. Her robe had ripped and was barely covering her as her muscles bulged with demonic might, her frame becoming lithe and muscular. Her shoes had been shredded as he feet turned monstrous and taloned, and demonic runes glowed upon her skin.

She was also...kinda sexy? Pizyap felt something stir within him he'd not felt in forever, and wondered just what was wrong with him. He hadn't felt the urge to mate in millenia, not since his last molt when his bits had dropped off. Surely there wasn't a fertile broodmother nearby…

"Fools! You face Jaraxxus, eredar lord of the Burning Legion!" the little imp continued to squeal. "When I assume my true form once more, I shall blanket your world in darkness! I shall strip the flesh from your bones! I shall-"

Rosalind walked up to the imp, and hit it smartly on the head with her hammer. It groaned and fell onto the ground at her feet, where she carefully warded it with several binding spells. "Highlord, I believe you owe that eredar at your feet some measure of thanks, if it can be called an eredar," she said.

"What is the meaning of this?" Tirion demanded, leveling the Ashbringer at Rosalind. "Who are you? I saw you attacking your own kind, demon. What treachery have you and this Jaraxxus planned?"

"Highlord, if I may," Confessor Paletress said, coming over to stand beside Rosalind. "This is Rosalind, a friend of mine. She has turned her back upon the Legion, and walks the path of the Light. She was the demoness who helped to slay Yogg-Saron."

"One of the eredar, abandoning the Legion?" Maraad scoffed. "Such a thing has never happened before."

"I am young, Vindicator," Rosalind said, looking away in shame. "I...I was not one of those who betrayed our people. My mother...well, she was a true demoness, but I rebelled against her and the Legion. I seek redemption, for myself, and for my family. Perhaps I can yet find it."

Pizyap turned back around and did his best to smile up at the High Lord. "See? She's a nice demon, and so am I! You can let me go now. And Hermione. We'll just, um, get out of your hair, and-"

"You bastard!" Pizyap felt something rack his back, and collapsed onto the ground. He flipped over to see a weeping Hermione poised over him, bloodied talons raised to slash again. "You killed Wilfred!"

"Woah woah woah! It's me, Pizyap! I'm not the eredar who killed Wilfred! Besides, wasn't me who modified his spell book now was it! Come on toots, back me up here! We can get out of this! I um, saved you. I shot...I shot...Sweet Sargeras. I shot the eredar with the Thought Outsourcer!"

Pizyap grabbed Hermione and lifted her off him as she squealed in protest. His hands were huge, had five fingers, and were bright red. "Sweet Sargeras, I'm not an imp, I'm an eredar!"

Pizyap tried to stand up, but found his legs now bent the wrong way and fell down, letting Hermione go and sending her sprawling. He spat out dirt, then looked up at the very confused Highlord Fordring and grinned. "So you see boss, I'm actually an imp! A very heroic one! I may look like an eredar, but that's because I heroically and nobly shot the eredar in the back, who is me now by the way, with the Thought-Thingy which switched our minds. He musta lost his connection with all them portals and they collapsed, suckin' all those other demons back through the nether."

"I…see," Tirion said, though he clearly did not. He glanced at Maraad. "Perhaps we should slay these three demons and be done with it."

Maraad pursed his lips, looking at Hermione who was staring wide eyed at her hands, tears running down her face. "That one there is a friend of my ward, Harry Potter. She is...odd. Dark and twisted, but perhaps not completely lost. The Prophet seems to think she has a role to play. She should be spared."

"And me, I should be spared!" Pizyap added hastily. "I should definitely be spared! Just think, you kill me, maybe that eredar gets his body back and bang, everyone's dyin' again. Very bad."

"Hmmm," Tirion rubbed his chin, then shrugged. "Bind them and place them in the holding area. We shall figure out to do with them later. For now, we must clean this mess up and tend to the wounded. I believe you champions showed your strength well, but this was a disaster. I should never have allowed that foolish warlock to summon any demons. I thought it a good example of the same evil as the Scourge, but it was folly."

Pizyap found himself bound with holy magic, then locked in a cell with Hermione and the Jaraxxus the Imp, while Rosalind was taken away for questioning. Jaraxxus continued to rant and rave, but Pizyap just punched him when he got too close. "Ha! Who's the big one now, huh? This body's mine now, you hear? I'm the lord now, and you're the imp! And that's how it is, forever, pipsqueak!"

"But Pizyap," Hermione said quietly, not looking up from where she sat and shivered on the floor. "All our test subjects died if we didn't switch back in half an hour. What if that happens to you?"

Pizyap stared blankly at Hermione for a moment, then wildy scrambled to the edge of the cell and began to shout at the guards. "Get the Thought-Thingy! Switch us back! I don't wanna die again! It's too painful! I hate pain!"

"Fool! Once I have my true form again, I shall torture you for all eternity!" Jaraxxus squealed.

Outside the cell, the guards sighed heavily. "I signed up to fight Scourge, not put up with crazy demons."

"Preach it, sister. This place is miserable. I didn't think Northrend would be so cold."

"What? It's bloody Northrend, Johnson! Of course it's cold as tits here! We're at the top of the bloody world!"

"Well the recruitment material didn't say anything about that! I thought Northrend would be, you know, nicer!"

"Nicer? NICER! We signed up to fight unholy abominations, Johnson! In a bloody icebox! It's not going to be nice!"

"Well excuse me, Hailey! I listened to you complain about your bloody problems, you could at least listen to mine!"

"But yours are stupid and asinine!"

As the guards argued, Pizyap's pleas, Hermione's tears, and Jaraxxus' rant went unanswered.

In the tent of the Highlord, Rosalind stood before Tirion Fordring and Confessor Paletress, having finished her tale. Paletress was gaping in numb shock, while Tirion was brooding, resting his hands on the hilt of the Ashbringer as he leaned upon the blade.

"A fascinating tale. One that defies belief," the Highlord said after a time. He looked up, squinting at Rosalind. "Who else has been told?"

"The Prophet Velen can confirm my story," Rosalind stated, standing within a binding circle of light. She was stripped down to her undergarments, her weapons and armor stacked in a bundle beside the Highlord. She did not seem distraught by her vulnerability, standing at ease with her tail swishing back and forth slightly. "King Varian suspects much, but does not know all yet. It would be wise not to confide in him: as you know, his actions will have deep ramifications for my party."

"Indeed. They would." Tirion sighed heavily. "I am loath to let you depart even more now, but I fear I must. However, first, I must have confirmation of your story. Perhaps if-"

The tent flap was pushed aside, and two figures entered. One was a draenei bearing a holy blade, the other an armor clade figure with a lion's head helm.

"Rosalind!" Llane snapped. "What are you doing here! When Midna finally told me… You could have destroyed everything!"

"Are you not the one who has said we must follow our conscience?" Rosalind demanded, turning slowly in the confines of the binding circle. "And I am not the one who hides behinds masks and false names, _Llane_."

Llane bristiled, turning to glare at Midna. "You know she could have ruined everything. If Hermione Granger had died today, much of our path forward would be easier."

"She is not the same as the demonic warlock who betrayed us," Midna said, meeting Llane's gaze from within the helm. "Fate changes. That is what we seek. To redeem this world, and its people. Let Hermione Granger be one such turned from the path of destruction."

"So. Two other travelers," Tirion said, standing. "One bearing a High Blade thought lost and not yet restored. Another in the armor of Stormwind's King, yet not a king at all. You hide it well, Llane. Or should I call you by another name?"

"You told him? HIM of all people?" Llane demanded, rounding on Rosalind. "Does he also know his fate?"

"I did not tell the Highlord of his own destiny, nor of the Crusade. Only that we share the same goal of stopping the Scourge once and for all," Rosalind said calmly. "I told him the least I could to help him understand the dire nature of the threat, and why I, and those with me, are necessary to prevent it."

"You...you are her daughter? In truth?" Paletress said, speaking for the first time.

Llane groaned and sagged, but Rosalind glanced over her shoulder and nodded. "I am the daughter of the Betrayer and her minion. But not the one you know. My mother is much older, and more dangerous, than the one you know. Take care she develops along another path. Already, much has changed. I had not heard of you before, Confessor. Continue your work. It is that of the Light. If the Light shines on us, Hermione Granger will allow us access to the mind of the Scourge and the Legion. Both must be defeated for Azeroth and Earth to be saved."

"I...I shall," Paletress said, bowing her head. "I will release you, Rosalind. You are no enemy of the Light. At a gesture from Paletress, the binding circle dissolved, and Rosalind relaxed slightly, bending to pick up her robe and quickly pulling it over her horns.

"And yet you are still a demoness," Tirion observed. "That is disturbing. I did not think the Light would heed a demon's call."

"The Light will heed the call of all who act with selflessness and mercy," Midna stated. "One day, my sister will be purged of her taint. Her heart is pure: her exterior just does not match it yet."

"We must go," Llane groaned. "You could ruin everything! Come. Chromie waits outside."

"Very well." Tirion motioned for the three to go. "Good luck, Child of Stormwind. May you lead your companions to victory, and may the Light have mercy upon us all. When the time comes, the Crusade will be there to oppose the Scourge, whatever form it may take."

Llane paused on the way out of the tent, turning and bowing. "Thank you, Highlord. Perhaps Rosalind did not ere. You were ever a champion of the Light."

With that, the three departed, leaving Paletress and Tirion alone. Once they were well gone, Tirion shouted for his guards. "Release the prisoners! And bring me Harry Potter! We must find the lost High Blade at once!"

 _Authors Note:_

 _I'm not really happy with several parts of the next arc, which tells the rather long story of Quel'Delar's retrieval and reforging and the many trials Harry and Ron must go through to restore it. It also reveals some of what has been happening on Earth, and just who and the Six Strangers are. As such, no new chapters until September, after which I hope to continue bi-weekly updates._

 _Thanks for reading and reviewing!_


	33. Interlude: Diabolical Dentists

In summer, the warm East Wind blew through the Valley of the Four Winds, bringing clear skies and long sunny days. In fall, the bitter West Wind blew, carrying with it the rain from the lands of the mantid, and causing the farmers to hurry to gather in their harvests. In Winter, the North Wind blew down from Kun Lai summit, bringing with it harsh storms that drove across the land sending everyone to the shelter of their homes. And in spring, the South Wind blew, the winds that brought warmth from the Sea of Mists and gentle rains, causing the crops to grow and the cycle to start anew.

But in this season, a new wind had arisen in the Valley of the Four Winds. And it was the wind of war. From the West, across the Serpent's Spine, came the Swarm. Millennia ago, the Serpent's Spine had been constructed by the Last Emperor to keep his people safe from the mantid. And now, the Spine was being put to the test once more.

From the blackened lands of the Dread Wastes they came: The Mantid Swarm. Out of their hives built into the corrupted great trees they came in their endless hordes. Eight feet tall with four arms, thick chitin armor covering their entire bodies with compound eyes and mandibles that clicked and clacked endlessly, a lone mantid was a dangerous opponent, but a mantid was never alone. Their young, nearly mindless beasts swept across the land, devouring every living and growing thing, before turning towards the Serpent's Spine and the rich farmlands of the Valley of the Four Winds.

But they did not just send their young: the more mature, intelligent mantid that had been battle tested and gone through their final molt took to the skies. They swept forth in great raiding parties to sweep the pandaren from the walls, and raid their lands beyond for supplies to keep their troops fed.

Wing Leader Ner'onok was an experienced battle leader, having battled the Shado-pan for 20 years and come out the better in every exchange. He led a flight of two dozen warriors armed with amber spears and strengthened by the spells of the priests of the seven headed god. He flew above the wall, ignoring the pitched battle that was taking place below as the cursed pandaren repelled yet another assault. They would break, in time. But Ner'onok's mission was to cut their supply lines. And it was a mission he would carry out with gusto.

Fifteen miles beyond the wall, Ner'onok spied a small hamlet with rich farmlands surrounding it. Here in the south of the world, it was early fall, and the several of the fields were still laden with fruits, grain, and squash. He signaled his wings and made for the nearest farm where several small shapes toiled. Ner'onok's mandibles widened in pleasure: fresh meat.

The Wing Leader dove out of the sun to disguise his approach, his spear pungling down beneath him like an eagles outstretched talons, aiming for the ridiculous wide straw hat of the farm hand below him. Just as he was about to strike, the figure suddenly planted its hoe and used it to pivot so that it slid out of the way of Ner'onok's strike. It was too late to adjust his aim, and the spear plunged into the moist earth.

Hissing in frustration, Ner'onok abandoned his weapon and sprung at the tiny figure, his scythe like upper arms striking out to shear his foes head from their body. Once more the figure shifted, this time in a flowing, lazy motion that slid across Ner'onok's strike. Two fists connected with the Wing Leader's abdomen, and he grunted in pain and stumbled back. As he did so, his lower arms snapped out, and this time the figure dodged just in time, losing its hat in the process.

"Mmmm, you are not pandaren," Ner'onok buzzed, shifting around his prey. It was about the height of a pandaren, perhaps five feet in height, but it was hairless, save for stock of blonde hair that was woven into two braids that flapped about as the thing moved. "Mmmm, what are you, soft skin? Are you a hairless hozen?"

Calmly, the creature moved its hands in those silly gestures the pandaren used for their unarmed strikes, assuming a pose on one foot with the other raised to snap out in a strike. So. It was combat trained, at least.

"What am I? That is a good question. What are any of us? Are we actors on a stage, shadow puppets on the wall, or the dreams of a strange being weaving a story for their friends? We may never know."

Continuing to circle, Ner'onok cocked his head to one side, his eyes watching as one of its warriors circled above, preparing to swoop down and kill the soft skin. He talked to distract the thing, and readied himself to strike with his warrior. "Mmmm, you speak in riddles. I am no shadow, no dream. I am a warrior of the swarm, mmmm. And you are dead."

As his warrior dove, Ner'onok sprung forward, flaring his wings to startle the odd creature. It reached back for its hoe, spinning it around itself and then snapping it up to smash the diving warrior in the face. The warrior's carapace cracked, and it bowled into Ner'onok, ruining his strike. He hissed and sliced the warrior's body in half with his scythes, then tried to attack again. The thing rolled away, then planted the hoe in the ground and jumped up on top of the handle, balancing on one foot. Its soft fleshy hands formed a circle at its side, and it chanted a short spell.

Ner'onok swore and tried to dive out of the way, but the crackling lightning caught him as the soft skin flung its hands forward in a claw like gesture. He screamed as the spell scoured his skin, twitching and writhing. He was still twitched when the thing lept off its hoe, its foot slamming into his right eye. He want down, half blind and clawing madly. "The Swarm will devour you all!" he hissed.

"I don't think so, I rather prefer to be doing the eating instead of being eaten. May you find peace in the embrace of the Ancestors." A second blow snapped into the side of Ner'onok's head, and his remaining eye could see his body laying on the ground as his head flew through the air. Then he felt nothing more.

/\\\/\\\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/

With their Wing Leader dead, the remaining mantid warriors let out shrill cries and took to the skies once more. Luna managed to leap high into the air and punch one, but it was only wounded, and managed to fly away, heading back to the west. She watched the others go, the bent down to retrieve her hat. It was a bit rumbled and torn, but it was still serviceable for now. She happily perched it atop her head, then turned to check on Lili and Chen.

They were together, Chen wincing and holding his side as Lili wove the mists into the wound.

"Hold still Uncle! Shesh, I've cut myself worse than this cooking! Quit being such a big baby."

"Ouch! You do not need to be so rough Lili! Did you not see, six of them came at me together! I managed to defeat them all, but the last one gave me this tiny cut. Ow! Be kinder to your heroic uncle."

Lili blew a raspberry as she took out a bandage and applied it to the tender recently healed flesh. "Six? Seriously? You fought two. And one of them got away! There's only one dead mantid where you were waiting."

"There were definitely six. Maybe seven!" Chen protested. He looked imploringly to Luna. "Luna believes me, don't you?"

Taking a long look at the lone mantid corpse, Luna nodded seriously. "Mantid are known for eating their own dead. The others must have eaten the others you slain. We are lucky they left us this one to claim the bounty on."

"You two are unbelievable," Lili groaned. "You get any wounds Luna?"

Luna pointed to a slash on the brim of her hat. "A nearly mortal wound, I fear. I shall have to make another."

"We'll hold a funeral service for your hats brave service later," Lili said dryly. "Well, do you think we'll get another raid today or should we go ahead and pack it in?"

"It will be dark soon, and it is getting colder. The mantid do not fly under such conditions," Chen said, raising his nose to the sky and sniffing. "And, I think I smell dinner cooking! Time to head home."

The three of them cut the mandibles from the five mantid they had slain, Luna and Lili with two each, and Chen's single warrior. It was a dangerous business, protecting farmers fields and slaying mantid sky hunters, but it paid well, and it was important work.

"Think they'll pay extra for yours, Luna," Lili said happily as they headed back up the hill to Stoneplow. "Those are super big. Bet that was a Wing Leader!"

"He was very talkative," Luna said, putting the large mandibles to her mouth and clacking them back and forth. "He said I wasn't a pandaren and wanted to know what I was. I told him I might be a shadow puppet, but I wasn't sure."

"You are too big now to be a shadow puppet," Chen declared, suddenly reaching down and scooping Luna and Lili up. The two young women shrieked and laughed as Chen tossed them high into the air, somersaulting in the sky and landing neatly on their toes. "Getting heavy too! We'll make a proper pandaren out of you yet!"

Luna flexed her arms, showing off a not insubstantial amount of muscle. She had grown a bit, but she'd never be particularly tall at only an inch above five feet. However, like the pandaren, Luna not only worked hard but ate and drank well, and in addition to the muscle her body had a protective layer of fat all along it like a wrestlers, and was rather stocky. She wasn't quite as rotund as a pandaren, her body not able to retain fat in the same way the bearlike humanoids could, but Luna didn't seem to mind. It had been several years since she seriously tried to locate a way back to England, as Luna seemed to have simply accepted she was a resident of pandaria now.

"I grow daily in both strength and courage," Luna declared, smiling at Chen and winking. "Much like my favorite uncle."

"Ha! See Lili, you had best be careful, or Luna shall win the prize for my favorite niece this year!" Chen laughed

Lili rolled her eyes. "Oh please. You just like her better because she's taken up brewing. But you both know the next time we have to make a meal, you'll come running to be because I'm the best cook."

"We provide the drink, you the dish," Luna said, tying the mandibles to her hat. "Behold! I am now a fierce mogul warrior! Let the mantid tremble before me!"

"Does that answer the question of what you are?" Lili demanded. "Because right now I mostly think you're a goof."

"Ho there!" Guard Captain Oakenshield leaned over the villages high stone wall. "Is that a fierce mantid I see approaching my village? Stop, vile fiend! Or I shall be forced to slay you!"

"Nah, she's a mogul today," Lili said. "Probably best to slay her anyway."

Oakenshield nodded seriously. "Hmm, very well. Archers, stand ready!"

"Yaaaah!" four tiny forms in paper armor jumped up on the parapet, raising bows made of green wood and strung with twine.

"The Stoneplow defense force is ready Captain Oakenshield!" a small pandaren boy pipped.

"Fire at will!" Oakenshield roared, slashing a paw towards Luna.

A volley of feathered twigs flew through the air, falling far short of Luna. She dashed forward, grabbed two, and tucked them between her arm and body. "Arrgh! A direct hit! Blllaaaarrrgghhh! The pain! Woe is me, the mighty mogul, slain by the cursed and clever pandaren!" Luna flopped on the ground, making choking noises and sticking her tongue out. At last she lay still, one eye open as she watched her audience.

"We did it!" the cubs cheered. "Victory for Stoneplow!"

There was a soft crunching sound, and Luna twisted her head slightly to see Lili standing over her, head bowed, and hands pressed together before her. She bowed to the cubs upon the wall. "Once more we are grateful to you, O heroes, for saving us from this wicked threat. Pray, may we humble travelers enter and be granted a small sustenance for our work in the fields?"

"Only if you promise to tell us stories!" the cubs called. "Please Lili and Luna! And Uncle Chen, did you fight ten this time?"

"I did not fight ten," Chen said seriously. He raised his fists to the sky and roared, "I slew TWO DOZEN!"

"Yaaaay! Open the gates! Open the gates!" the cubs chanted.

Luna sat up, scrubbing grass from her back as Captain Oakenshield chuckled and waved down to have the gates open. The three returning heroes swaggered in as the cubs swarmed down from the walls and crowded around, demanding to hear the tales of the champions brave exploits.

"Ah ah ah," Luna said, wagging a finger as she bent double to look the cubs in the eyes. "Our throats are dry, and our bellies quaking with hunger! No stories until we are satisfied!"

Later, they were all sitting in the village's large town meeting hall at a low table, feasting on rice, roasted pork and rabbit, along with trays of steamed vegetables and fresh fruit from the orchards. Lili was telling of how she had summoned a great wind serpent spirit to do battle in the skies with a Klaxxi Paragon, as the cubs listened in awe. Luna was busy tapping a keg of her most recent brew, which she had dubbed "Vermin Surprise" for the shredded carrots she had added to the ale for a unique flavor.

"How many today," Captain Oakenshield asked quietly, coming to sit by Uncle Chen.

"One raid early in the morning. They managed to carry off a cart of melons before we stopped them," Chen answered, setting down his mug and wiping his chin with the back of his hand. "A smaller one this afternoon. We slew twelve, seven this morning, five later. But Luna here got a Wing Leader I think. That may slow the raids."

"Jade Serpent send that it is so," Oakshield said, shaking his head. "I lost three men today. The teams in the other fields brought back four more dead, and six injured. Your squad escaped injury again, somehow. The White Tiger himself must fight with you. It is too soon! Too soon by nearly twenty years! We were not ready!"

"Something stirs in the wastes," Luna said, coming over to set tankards infront of her uncle and the captain. She knelt beside them, sipping her own stein.

Captain Oakenshield grunted. "I have heard the rumors. Reports of Sha fighting alongside the mantid. And those strange wind serpents attacking the Temple of the Red Crane two nights ago. And the mistweavers say the mists are thinning for the first time in centuries."

"We were at the Temple of the Red Crane until a fortnight ago, when we came north to fight the mantid," Luna mused. "I wonder, where they after us?"

"That's nonsense," Oakenshield snorted. "You may be odd Luna, but you are only a little girl yet. What interest would these odd bandits have in you?"

"Perhaps I only look like a little girl. After all, am I not the only human in these lands? Perhaps they think I am secretly an agent of the Thunder King on a quest to recreate the mogul empire," Luna reasoned.

"Save your stories for the cubs," Oakenshield laughed. "You do come up with the most interesting theories."

After dinner, Luna and Lili chased the cubs up onto the villages palisade, all of them laughing and giggling. Once the sun went down, it was far safer, as the mantid were cold blooded and far less active during the cool of the night. Luna had just toss a shrieking cub into a hale bale below them when she stopped and turned towards the wall.

"Lili?" Luna called. "I think we need to get the cubs to safety."

"Oh come on Luna there's no mantid after dark!" one of the little ones protested, but Lili shushed him.

"What do you see?" Lili asked, turning towards the Serpents shrine and peering at it through the darkness.

"Watch," Luna said. The group fell silent, the cubs shifting nervously.

After a moment, there were several flashes of light atop the Spine directly in front of the village.

"Oh Celestials save us," Lili groaned, then raised her voice and shouted, "Trouble on the Spine! To arms!"

The cubs wailed and ran off, but Luna lept off the villages barricade and began to run full tilt towards the wall, wrapping herself in mist and wind to speed her footsteps. A moment later there was a thud behind her and Luna slowed her pace just enough for Lili to catch up.

"Are you crazy?" Lili half screamed. "The Shado-pan will handle whatever it is, and if they can't we're all screwed anyway!"

"I have to help," Luna insisted. "I'm not losing another home. You can go back if you want."

Lili grumbled under her breath, but kept pace with Luna. They ran on for an half an hour, as it was nearly 15 miles to the wall and even with wind magic they couldn't move at top speed for that long. As they neared the wall though, Luna heard the crash of battle, and strange, unearthly roars. Atop the Spine she saw torches and lit braziers, along with a glowing figure with a shining weapon, which provided just enough light to make out dark shapes with batlike wings flying above the wall.

"Look, there, at the base of the wall!" Lili called.

Luna looked down and saw more dark shapes moving about at the foundations of the spine, taking objects that glinted metallically in the light from above.

"Whatever they're doing, we have to stop them!" Luna called, then leapt into the air and struck foot first at the invaders. Luna's kick connected with a thick scaly hide, and for a moment she thought she had hit a saurok, one of the lizardmen native to pandaria, but she quickly realized her error and sprang back as her opponent slashed at her with a long black pole arm. The light was too dim to clearly make out her foe, but it was black as midnight save for glowing white patches.

"Interloper! You dare oppose the flow of time itself?" the thing roared and attacked again. Like a saurok, it was reptilian and bipedal, but was much larger and had two straight horns atop its head.

"I'm not opposed to time, but I only like to make time for fun things, not blowing up walls," Luna answered. She held her hands close together, forming a ball of mist between her parallel palms, then hurling the crackling sphere at her opponent so that jade lightning enveloped it. The creature roared in pain, and Luna spun about to deliver a roundhouse kick to the creature's jaw, dropping it.

"What the hell are these things?" Lili called as rolled away from another creature, this one with four legs but a torso and arms sticking out of the lower body. Luna sprang towards her friend, punching the oncoming foe in the chest. It let out a gasp, but unlike a normal foe wasn't completely winded. It struck at Luna with a spell, but she manage to curve the magical energy around her body and redirect it harmlessly into the ground. Lili sprang back at the thing, kicking it in the head. This time it keeled over and lay still, but the two friends had no respite as more black things hurried out of the night, some bearing weapons, others wielding strange magic.

"I'm starting to think we didn't think this through," Lili grumbled as she gathered mists in her hands. She spun the mists into a jug she carried on her back, and water gushed out. It formed into a bubbling water elemental wearing a jade mask, which danced about the two young women.

"Well the run was quite long," Luna said as she dodged out of the way of an enemy spear, then wrapped her arm around the shaft. She twisted the spear so that the creature holding it yelped in pain and dropped it, then spun the spear about and used it to skewer its former owner. "So I did quite a lot of thinking."

Lili for her part wove the mists about her foes to blind them, then sent in her water elemental to freeze her foes in place. "And what did you think about?"

"I wonder if a mantid's wings get as tired as my legs do when they fly to the village?" Luna mused. "They do have four wings and I only two legs, so perhaps they only get half as tired."

"I'll make sure to ask a mantid the next time one isn't trying to kill us on sight," Lili declared as she rolled her eyes. Pressing her her palms together, Lili conjured up jade lightning and fried the frozen foes.

With their enemies dead or disabled, Luna and Lili hurried forward to the stack of large metallic spheres. They were each about the size of a large pumpkin with cord sticking out of them, all tied together.

"Yeah, those look like bombs to me," Lili said, examining them. "Alright Bubbles, hose it down! Don't want those things going off."

"Hmmm, there are a lot of them," Luna said, looking down the all. "I wonder, why would those things want to destroy the Serpent's Spine?"

"Pff, who knows? Not that it really matters anyway," Lili said as Bubbles began to freeze the bombs. "We've stopped them, so-"

A voice so deafening that Luna could feel it vibrate within her bones roared directly above them, causing Luna and Lili to fall to the ground clutching their ears."FOOLISH MORTALS! YOU DARE DEFY THE FLOW OF TIME ITSELF!"

Luna staggered upright as a massive black shape with bat like wings decended, pinning both of the girls to the ground with its talons.

"Dragon!" Luna tried to cry, but her ears were ringing so badly she couldn't even hear herself.

"What have we here?" the voice growled, this time softer. "Ah, one of the interlopers! The Aspect will be pleased! And now, your time ends little ones."

Luna tried to struggle out of the pinning claws as the black dragon opened its maw, revealing a pale white throat. She could only scream as the head drew back to unleash it's breath, but an new shape hurtled out of the night, rising up to strike the dragon in the jaw and force its mouth shut just as it began to spew sand. The dragon reared back, coughing and hacking as and dribbled from its jaws in white rivers.

Luna found herself jerked up and tossed over a shoulder.

"This time, girls, you have bitten off more than you can chew!" Uncle Chen roared. "Do no think you will escape punishment for your foolishness!"

Luna and Lili were both so relieved at Chen's arrival that the prospect of living to face whatever discipline lay in store for them they cried tears of joy.

Uncle Chen did not make it far before the dragon lept into the air and landed before them, roaring in rage. "You shall not escape me! I am Aeonus of the Infinite! Herald of Murozond the End! I shall have the blood of the human, pandaran! Stand aside or your time shall end!"

Chen set Luna and Lili down, taking up a fighting stance. "You cannot have her while I live! You will never succeed while hope lives, sha-spawn!"

"Hope?" the dragon laughed madly, a terrible sound like sandpaper on glass. "You shall know only the despair I have already unleashed upon this land!" The dragon suddenly vanished, replaced by a man with skin inky as midnight and white eyes burning with madness. He raised his hands, and a pool of chalky white grew at his feet. "Come forth, child of Y'Shaarj! Herald the ascension of the Infinite as the sands of time spill like water at your coming!"

Out of the white pool crawled a creature that seemed composed of black mists. It swelled in size, letting out a piercing wail that drove thought from Luna's mind.

"Free! Free after 10,000 years! Abandon hope, mortals! The sha return!" the thing cried.

"No," Lili whispered, taking a step back. "The sha are just bedtime stories...they...they're not real…"

"This land's time has ended!" the dragon roared, once more shifting to its gigantic form and taking flight. "By the mantid, by the sha, it matters not! You shall all perish, and time shall flow on without you!"

Aeonus dissolved into sand, vanishing as the sha advanced.

"Give up, pandaran," the sha hissed. "Lay down and die. You cannot succeed. You wall is failing! No one is coming to help you."

Luna felt despair grip her heart, and she looked to Chen and Lili. Both seemed shaken, unable to speak or respond. Luna tried to firm her stance, but black mists flowed around her, and all she could see was her mother, lying at her feet in a pool of dark blood. She screamed and dropped to her knees, clutching at her head.

"It's so dark," Luna whispered, closing her eyes. Somehow, it seemed less dark with them shut than open. "I cannot see any light…"

"It is always darkest before the dawn! Take heart, and do not give up!"

Luna's eyes snapped open as a sudden light blaze. She turned her head to see an angel diving from the wall top on blazing wings of light. The sha roared in anger as the being slammed into it, a massive sword glowing with a pure yellow light slashing at it and driving it back. The figure turned, holding out a hand and smiled. "Come, Luna Lovegood! Your fight is not over yet! Take hope in the Light, and fight on!"

Strength flowed back into Luna and she stood. "I...I have my friends with me! I have not lost hope!" she jumped forward, her fists suddenly blazing with Light. She struck at the sha, but her blows did little at first. Then Lili and Chen were at her side, each of them taking heart at those at their side. Together, they drove back the sha, which seemed to shrink in size.

"Lili, your sacred flask!" Chen called. "Bottle it up, quickly!"

Lili scooped the jub that contained her elemental and poured the water out. Together, Lili and Luna gathered up the black mists, then flung them into the flash. Once the sha was contained, Lili slapped a stopper on it, then sealed it with several binding spells.

"Did...did we beat it?" Lili asked, setting the flask down and taking a wary step back.

"That one is bound, for now," the strange angel said, striding over. "You must entrust it to the Shado-pan for now. I believe they and my companion have finished driving off the Infinite Dragonflight and their mantid allies from the walltop."

Luna turned to the stranger and bowed deeply. "Thank you, Miss Angel. For a moment there...I could think of nothing but despair."

The blue angel smiled, sheathing her sword on her back and putting a hand on Luna's shoulder as she straightened. "I am only returning the favor. Be a light in the darkness, Luna Lovegood. And please, I am no Naaru. Call me Midna."

"Midna," Luna said, nodding. "That is a nice name. You do look very odd for an angel. I thought devil's had hooves, not angels, but I seem to have been mistaken about that. How did you know the dragon was here?"

"Chromie sensed the Infinite's arrival here and sent us with her consort to aide you," Midna said. "That is, Chromie is the Keeper of Time, the Bronze Dragonflight. The Infinite's sought to alter the timeline. To slay you, Luna Lovegood."

"Why would those big lizards want to kill Luna?" Lili demanded. "And why do you care? I mean, thanks for saving us and all, but what are you doing here? And what are you anyway?"

"I have never seen a creature like her," Chen mused. "Although, you do look a bit like Archimonde, the demon that attacked Mount Hyjal."

Midna flushed with anger and glared at Chen. "I am draenei! Not an eredar like-" she took a deep breath. "Forgive me. Yes: Archimonde and I share similar ancestry, though we serve very different masters."

"Midna!" a voice shouted from above, and they looked up to see a humanoid figure in full plate with a lion's head helm descending a staircase at a run, followed by several pandaren in the dark leather armor of the Shado-pan. "Where is Rosalind? She was with us when we arrived, but I cannot find her!"

"She had other business to attend to," Midna called back. "Chromie took her to another when."

"What?! Was there more infinite activity?" the lion helmed warrior demanded, hurrying over to Midna. "We should-"

"No, you know when and where she is," Midna answered, planting her hooves and turning to face this newcomer.

"I'm sorry, but who is this Rosalind, and just who exactly are you, stranger?" Chen interrupted. "Are you another draenei? But no, you look...human? Or perhaps an orc?"

"Master Stormstout!" one of the Shado-pan called from the stairs. "These strangers, they arrived just before those-dragons? The strange attackers and the mantid. What are your orders?"

Chen sighed. "I'm retired! I'm no longer a Master of the Shado-pan! I'm just a simple traveling brewer."

"She wouldn't-" the warrior suddenly snarled. "She's with Granger! I told her not to interfere! That's her own timeline she's getting entangled in!"

"Are you as confused by this as I am?" Lili asked Luna. "Because I'm lost."

"Obviously, these two are time travelers who are attempting to foil a plot to destroy all of time," Luna stated seriously. "Those dragons are trying to eat time itself."

The two strangers fell dead silent, rounding on Luna and stiffening into wary fighting postures. The Shado-pan went on guard as well, looking nervously to Chen.

Chen for his part developed a sudden cough that sounded suspiciously like a laugh, while Lili groaned loudly. "Oh really? Care to elaborate on that?"

"Of course," Luna said, pacing back and forth. "You see, the mantid eat everything but one thing: Time. Therefor, they need the dragons to eat time for them. Once they've eaten all the time, the matid won't need to worry about multiplying too much. They're probably involved with the saurok mafia, who are using the mogle to smuggle bombs. These two are secretly time agents. They've probably got a blue police box around here somehow. I seem to remember that muggles use them to time travel, but they're bigger on the inside. I bet their Chromie is secretly aligned with the sandman, and wants to stop the other dragons from eating all of time because she knows it will cause them to get cavities. As I'm the only human, I'm the only one who knows about the Rotfang conspiracy and good oral hygiene and can foil the whole thing."

"I...what?" the stranger in the armor asked, sounding rather faint.

"Master?" the Shado-pan quered, dropping their fighting stance and rubbing the backs of their necks in confusion.

Chen chuckled and shook his head, his coughing fit subsiding. "It's fine. Luna has a very active imagination. However, I would like to know how you two got through the mists. I had thought myself and Luna the only ones to ever accomplish such a feat."

"I'm telling you, they're definitely time traveling dentists," Luna said, folding her arms over her chest. "Just look for the police box and extra toothbrushes."

"Wow. Now I know where the twins get it from," Midna muttered. She shook her head. "Never mind. I wish we could stay and talk, but we must be going. We've stayed too long already."

"Yes, yes, much too long!" a new voice declared. Out of the darkness waddled a short figure that was very obviously and hugely pregnant, to the point that Luna was surprised she didn't burst in a shower of little babies. "We've got to go! My own time is fast approaching!"

"I agree," the warrior growled. "We've got to stop Rosalind before she does something foolish. It would be best for everyone with the Granger problem solved itself."

"Oh no, not at all," the new commer declared. She waved happily to Luna and Lili. "Hello again! Or perhaps for the first time? I'm sorry, it's every exhausting being the only Keeper around! Either way, we'll talk again shortly. Well, at least from my perspective!"

The little woman took Midna and the warrior's hands, and a golden swirl of sand enveloped the trio. When the sand settled, they were gone.

"Celestials save us," one of the Shado-pan muttered. "THey were a great help, but what were they?"

"Trouble," Chen muttered. He walked over and picked up the jug Lili and Luna had bound the Sha in. "We must see Grandmaster Zhu at once. I do not understand all that has happened here tonight, but it does not bode well for Pandaria."

They began to walk up the stairs, and Luna and Lili shared a triumphant grin. They just might-

"And do not think I have forgotten your reckless behavior," Chen called back to his charges. "There will be no dessert for a week! And you shall both meditate on the meaning of prudence from dawn until breakfast each day for a month!""

"Busted," Luna and Lili groaned. But they still smiled. At least they were both still alive.

 _Authors Note:_

 _I finished my editing early, and decided it had been far too long since we had a chapter featuring Luna. Afterall, everyone needs a little more conspiracy theories in their life, especially when they involve dentists._


	34. Through Darkness and Death I

"Highlord, we have come as ordered," Harry said, is breath coming out like great gouts of steam in the frigid night air. Impa panted beside him, and both were lightly dressed for the cold weather: after visiting Hermione in her prison, they'd retired to their tent together and had been summoned from sleep.

Tirion was studying a map of Icecrown, and glanced over his shoulder at Harry's entrance. "Ah, good. Come. I think it time we put more serious thought into retrieving this High Blade of yours."

Harry and Impa stepped over to the table where the map was spread, showing the geography of Icecrown glacier. The Highlord tapped his finger on a location at the far north of the glacier, near where the glacier plunged into the North Sea. "Illidan's Doom. The location of the last battle between the forces of the Betrayer and the Kinslayer. Some would say a victory for the Light, for evil fought evil on that day. Others would note that they did not fight for our benefit, only for the right to conquer."

"That is where you believe the shards of Quel'delar lay, Highlord?" Impa asked, studying the map. "It seems it may be accessible from the sea."

"Perhaps," Tirion said, shaking his head. "But I doubt it will be so at this time of year. It is early spring in most of Azeroth, yet spring comes very late indeed to Northrend. The snow in the passes will not melt for weeks still, and the ice on the North Sea makes it unnavigable."

"Is there another way there?" Harry asked eagerly. "I know the Tournament is not yet over, but if we could retrieve the blade before the campaign begins in earnest it would be a mighty weapon."

"Folly to venture into Icecrown while winter's grasp lingers," a new voice growled, reverberating with unholy menace. "I fought the forces of the Lord of Outland alongside Arthas. They were defeated as much by winter's chill as by the armies of the Scourge. If you went there now, you fleshlings would freeze to death before we had gone a league. If we were not torn apart by its guardians."

Harry whirled, hand going to a sword that wasn't there, as Impa's eyes glowed with thunder and she assumed a reading stance. They forced themselves to relax when they saw who had spoken: Crok Scourgebane.

"Champion Scourgebane. Thank you for coming on such short notice," Tirion said, motioning for the undead orc to join him at the table. "I want your advice on the soonest we can mount an expedition into Icecrown to retrieve the fragments of Quel'Delar."

Crok strode in, clad in his dark plate and bearing his cold steel axe upon his back. Harry and Impa nervously edged away from the orc, who extruded an air of menace and necrotic power. Resting his gauntleted hands upon the table, Crok studied the map. "You think Quel'Delar lies within Illidan's Doom?"

"Yes," Harry said curtly. "It was wielded by Lana'thel of Quel'thalas before she was slain and resurrected as one of the San'layn. I have the hilt, but we need the blade."

"Hmph. Well, it would likely still lie at Illidan's Doom, as you seem to believe. But I would not lead you there now. All it would serve to do would be to give Arthas more corpses for his army," Crok stated grimly. "You had best wait for spring thaw."

"What if we flew?" Impa asked. "We're friends with a skilled gryphon rider, he could take us."

"In the skies you'd be easy meat," Crok stated. "Not only would the winds blind and freeze you, but the gargoyle's and frost wyrms would strike you down before you were halfway to Illidan's Doom. And before you suggest approaching by sea, that is folly. Kraken patrol those waters when it is not frozen, which at this time, it surely is. This late in the season, the sea ice would be treacherous, and unfit to walk on. No, the time to hunt for your sword will be once the thaw hits and the snow melts in the high passes of the Storm Peaks."

"Oh." Harry felt disheartened, looking to the Highlord who was frowning at the map. "Do you have another suggestion, Highlord?"

"There may yet be another way," Tirion mused. "To venture through Azjol Nerub."

Crok looked up, his expression blank. "The lost city of the Nerubians. And how would you navigate such a maze?"

"Not all of the Nerubian people have been slain," Tirion stated. "The taunka still trade with a small group of those who escaped the Scourge. Seer Ixit leads them; he could supply us with a guide."

"A dark people, even before the coming of the Scourge. They served the Old Gods, like the Qiraji of Silithus. With Yogg Saron slain at the hands of mortals, will they even respond?" Crok demanded.

"We will trust their hatred of the Scourge outweighs their fervor for their dark masters," Tirion replied. He looked to Harry and Impa. "Would you venture through darkness and death in search of the High Blade?"

"We shall trust in the Light," Harry answered. "And that it shall lead us to victory."

"A risky venture. But to obtain a High Blade, it may be worth it," Crok mused. "The weapons of the Titans have proven ineffective, and we have but one Ashbringer. Another weapon to strike at the Scourge will be key."

Tirion nodded, stepping back from the table. "Then it is settled. Harry, Impa, the two of you get some rest. We shall complete our plans for the expedition in the morning."

Bowing, Harry and Impa left the tent together, leaving Tiron and Crok to discuss their plans in low voices. Once outside, they clasped hands, making their way through the light snow that was falling.

"I wonder why the Highlord is so concerned about finding the blade now," Harry mused. "He seemed content to wait until spring only a few days ago."

"It must have something to do with those demons Hermione summoned," Impa opined. She shivered, drawing closer to Harry for warmth. "I cannot believe she would be so reckless as to summon an eredar. Rosalind is one thing, she seems to be seeking redemption, but Jaraxxus would have killed us all without a second thought."

Harry put his arm around Impa, enjoying the feel of her so close. "We should visit Hermione again in the morning. I know she's become tainted by the fel, but not all hope is lost for her, not yet."

"I think she may be beyond redemption, Harry," Impa whispered.

Harry sighed, shaking his head. "I fear you may be right. But we have to try."

They walked the rest of the way back to their tent in silence, but they did not go to sleep immediately. They were both young, and recently wed. Besides, this time they were certain no one would interrupt them.

The next morning Harry and Impa brought Hermione a pot of hot porridge and a flask of hot tea. They found their friend curled up in the corner of her cell, with Pizyap standing outside of the open door. The guards were gone, as was Jaraxxus the Imp.

"Heya," Pizyap called, shakily getting to his feet. He had to hold onto one of the bars for support, as he clearly wasn't used to standing or moving on the back bending legs of an eredar. "She um, she ain't doin' so hot. Look, I know you don't like me, and I ain't exactly fond of either of you, but...well, we both kinda like Hermione, right? So, maybe help a guy out? I'm worried. She ain't' said nothin', and she won't come out of the cell. K Lee came by earlier, Hermione wouldn't even look at her. Took Jaraxxus though, thank the Nether."

Impa narrowed her eyes at Pizyap, putting a hand on her mace. "Why should we help you, demon?"

Pizyap raised his hands in supplication. "Look, I get it, I get it. But listen, you help Hermione, I'll owe ya one, OK? She, well, she needs a friend, and I ain't so hot at the whole bein' nice thing."

"We'll help her, but not for you," Harry said cooly. "Hermione needs to be cleansed of the demonic influence in her body, and her spirit soothed."

"Yeah, whatever. Just so long as she turns out alright. She's the only one who really understands how this whole body swapping thing happened."

Harry and Impa walked into the cell, setting down the food and kneeling beside Hermione. Harry hesitated as he looked down at his friend. She was barely recognizable. Whereas before she had been a short scrawny waif with long curly hair and pale skin, now she was muscled and tall, her body infused with fel power.

"Hermione, we brought you some breakfast," Harry said gently.

"If you are injured, we can heal you," Impa offered. "Perhaps we can find a way to cleanse you of this demon blood."

Hermione didn't stir, and Harry and Impa exchanged a look. With a sigh, Impa poured a cup of tea, adding two sugars and some cream they'd managed to get from a vendor. "We brought you tea, just the way you like it. Cream and two sugars."

That got Hermione's attention. Slowly, she pushed herself up, the tattered blanket she'd been wearing slipping from her body. She was nearly naked, her robes ripped and torn from how her body had grown. Harry looked away to find Pizyap looking at Hermione with a puzzled expression, his head cocked to one side. Harry glared at the demon, but he seemed to have no regard for Hermione's privacy.

After a moment, Impa coughed politely, and Harry turned back around. Impa had draped the blanket about Hermione to cover her modesty. Pizyap let out a grunt of disappointment as Hermione sipped at her tea, head down, face hidden in the shadow of her new rams horns.

"I...I'm sorry," Hermione whispered once she was finished with the tea. She held the cup in trembling hands, her talons scratching the pewter.

"You can still find redemption," Harry said gently, putting a hand on Hermione's shoulder. She suddenly hissed, jerking back as if in pain. Harry noticed that where he had rested his hand, the skin was a much lighter shade of red.

"Yeah, could have told ya about that," Pizyap commented from where he was slumped against the bars. "Paladins, they got all kinds of Holy power in 'em. Hurts like blazes, don't it?"

Hermione looked up at Harry, her eyes still brown, but now flecked with bits of green fire. "Harry...I didn't mean...oh God Harry, it was all my fault!"

Hermione began to cry again, causing Harry to reach out for her, then withdraw his hand. He looked at Impa helplessly, but when she reached for Hermione the demoness jerked back. "No! Stay away! I don't want...I'll just hurt you too!"

Harry and Impa sat helplessly for a moment as Hermione cried, unsure of what to do. Harry turned to glare at Pizyap. "Are you going to just sit there, or are you going to try to help?"

Grumbling, Pizyap got to his hooves and stumbled over to Hermione, tentatively putting a hand on her head. "Hey, it's er, it's going to be OK?"

"Oh Pizyap!" Hermione flung her arms about her former servant, weeping onto his bare chest. Pizyap looked up at Harry, confused and helpless.

"Comfort her," Impa hissed. "Surely even an eredar knows how to show compassion!"

"I'm not a blessed eredar," Pizyap complained, but he patted Hermione gingerly on the back. "Hey toots, your gonna be fine, see? We're both big scary demons now. And my brains didn't even melt or whatever. Wonder what happened with that Thought-Thingy."

"It...it must have reacted badly to the demon minds because of the saronite," Hermione hiccuped. "Or perhaps it was the fact that Jaraxxus was controlling a great many demons himself at the time and channeling fel power. We never tested the Thought Outsourcer in those circumstances. Perhaps if we rebuilt it, we could run more tests. Yes, yes that's what we shall do. We'll have to see why it allowed a permanent body swap. Think of the potential! We could use it to restore undead, or allow people to experience life as another race! Yes, yes that's an excellent project."

Hermione sprang to her feet, using the blanket to wipe away her tears then tossing it aside. "We'll have to start at once. There is a great deal of research to undertake! Come, Pizyap, I shall need your assistance."

Swearing under his breath, Pizyap stumbled to his feet, walking awkwardly after Hermione as Harry once more averted his eyes.

"Hermione, please, I brought you this robe," Impa said hurriedly, taking out a bundle of clothing. "Why don't you put it on. It's very cold."

"I don't hardly feel cold at all," Hermione protested, but reluctantly slipped the rob on over her head, struggling to get it past her new horns. Impa managed to dress her as Pizyap looked on with interest, despite Harry's glare.

"Thank you, Harry, Impa," Hermione said as she left the prison. "I know I can use all this to further my research. This has to have great implications for VOMIT."

"Do we really still care about imps?" Pizyap asked. "Cause, you know, I'm an eredar now, and you're like a demon human or whatever."

"Of course we care about imps!" Hermione lectured as she strode away, Pizyap hobbling after her. "We care about everyone! That's what we're supposed to do! Now, perhaps I should summon a few more imps to use in our experiments. Provided they're willing, of course. We'll have to find a way to persuade them…"

As Harry and Impa made their way out of the cells, Ron strode up to them, dressed for battle with a grim expression on his face. "Ye seen Hermione?" he demanded.

"She just left," Harry said. "She seems to be taking her transformation rather well, all things considered."

"I saw what bloody happened," Ron growled. "Fought some o' those damn demons meself when they came through the portals. Pizyap's a bloody eredar now, and Hermione's turned into a demon. Just like I saw in those visions."

"That...that should not be possible," Impa gasped, taking half a step back. "You said those visions were lies of a dark god!"

"They're lookin' more bloody likely with each passin' day," Ron said, putting a hand on the haft of his warhammer. "Ye and Harry gettin' married. Hermione turnin' into a bloody demoness. By the storm if I see a bear man I might just go mad. His niece had damn well better be a fine bird though, or I bloody well ain't shaggin' the bint."

"Ron, why are you looking for Hermione?" Harry asked, taking a step forward to stand directly before his friend.

Ron met Harry's eyes, a grim expression on his face. "To damn well put her to rest. Her and those demons of hers. They have to die Harry. They betrayed people to Voldemort. Or will, at any rate."

"Ron, none of that has happened," Harry said gently. He rested a hand on Ron's shoulder. "Hermione was judged innocent by the Highlord. It isn't your right to mete out justice for acts that could happen. I was going to look for you, though. We're going after Quel'Delar."

"Your sword?" Ron asked. He shrugged. "Look, fine, I'll no kill Hermione now. But how in the blazes are ye going ta get that blade? Isn't it supposed to be in Icecrown? The passes are snowed in, and even Sharpbeak and I can no fly into that place without a great bloody frostwyrm eatin' us."

"We shall travel through Azjol Nerub," Impa said calmly. "Through the hidden tunnels of the lost city, we can make our way to Icecrown undetected."

"I see." Ron frowned, then shook his head. "Very well. Ye can count on me and my hammer. It's no a place for a gryphon underground, but I'll come all the same. Mylra though is a different matter. She's trainin' the crusade's recruits on them snowy gryphon's they've got. She'll be sad to lose me, but she'll understand I've got ta go with ye."

"Thanks, Ron," Harry said fervently. He smiled and patted Ron's shoulder. "Come on, we've got to talk to the Highlord."

In the Highlord's tent, they found Vindicator Maraad and Crok waiting for them.

"We leave in two days time," Maraad stated. "It is good Ronald shall accompany us, he has experience fighting the Old Gods and their minions, and it is likely we shall find such waiting for us within the lost city."

"I shall ride ahead," Crok informed them. "I will speak with Seer Ixit, or any other still living Nerubians. If I cannot find a guide, we must find another way."

"We shall have faith," Harry declared. "The Light will find a way."

Crok managed to give the impression he found this prospect extremely dubious without changing his expression in the slightest, then walked away.

"You shall be well supplied," Tirion told Harry. "I would send a hundred men with you, but a small party will be able to move in secret. Too many and we risk drawing Arthas' attention. Good luck, and may the Light guide your path."

Two days later, they departed at dawn, mounted on gryphons and flying through Crystalsong Forest, into the Dragonblight. They passed over many skeletons of ancient beasts in the dragon graveyard, all patrolled heavily by the Red Dragonflight. Too many of their ancestors bones had been used to raise frost wyrms, and the dragons were enraged to see their corrupted kin. Harry kept a wary eye on the dragons, but aside from flying near enough to identify them, the dragons left the party alone.

After a full day of flying, they came to a great icy pit that plunged 100 feet down. At the surface was an encampment of taunka, over which banners of the Horde flew.

"Well met, friends," the taunka flight master said, taking their gryphon mounts when they landed. Ron was reluctant to hand over Sharpbeak to a stranger, but the flight master assured them all the gryphons would be well cared for.

"I shall send them back to the Argent Tournament grounds with the next Alliance patrol," the flight master stated. "We work closely together now, in preparation of the offensive we shall mount come the spring."

"It should bloody well be spring already," Ron complained, kicking at a snow drift. "Even in the Aerie the snow would be melting by now."

They stayed the night with the taunka, the great buffalo men treating them to a feast of mammoth meat and boiled tubers and a drink made from fermented ox milk. Ron seemed to enjoy that, though Harry and the draenei contented themselves with water from melted snow.

In the morning, Harry awoke early to relieve himself, leaving his warm blankets and kissing the still sleeping Impa on the cheek. He was leaving the outhouse when a snowball smacked into his cheek, causing him to rub it and sigh.

"It's too early for this Ron, I-"

"Ron?" a voice squawked, and suddenly a red headed woman in highland garb stood up from the bushes near the outhouse. "Bloody buggering hell Lucy is going to kill us!"

Harry shook his head and rolled his eyes. "Oh, it's you. Fred, or George, or whatever you're calling yourself today."

The woman paused in her rant, eyeing Harry skeptically. "I'm Fredrika, of course. Don't you remember that? You're really getting old if you can't even remember my name after less than a year."

"Fred, I'm younger than you are," Harry said patiently. "What are you doing here? Did Khadgar send you to help retrieve Quel'Delar? Do you know how to get through Azjol Nerub?"

"Ha! Knew you were up to something. Lucy said we shouldn't interfere, but you're going to spider town aren't you? So yes, Khadgar definitely did send us."

"Us?" Harry glanced around. "That mean your brother is here?"

"Yeah, he's around," Fred said, waving her arm vaguely. "Always been a bit of a sleepy head, so I got up first to snoop around. We had a hell of a time figuring out where you were going, but Khadgar knew you were up to something. But...but you said Ron was here?"

"Yes, he's back in the tent," Harry said, pointing in the direction he'd come from. "You want to talk to him?"

"No! I mean, yes, but…" Fred bit her lip, glancing around as if someone was watching. "Could I? Really? I...I'd like to see him, at least."

"As long as you behave yourself, I don't see why not." Harry led Fred back to the tent, then peeked his head inside. Ron was still snoring loudly, though Impa was up and making hot water for breakfast. "Morning love. Poke Ron for me, would you? Fred the mage is here to see him, Khadgar sent her."

Impa turned her head, her eyebrows raised in surprise. "Fredrika? That what she's calling herself now? I would like to speak with her also. Ron, wake up, someone is here to see you."

"Huh?" Ron groaned, rolling over and reaching for Aesuga. "Tell them to bugger off, it's too early."

"It's that twin mage, Fred. She says her brother George is here too," Harry called.

Ron sat bolt upright, gripping his weapon and barreling outside, nearly knocking Harry over. "Fred? George? Bloody hell where did you-" Ron paused, glaring at the wide eyed woman who seemed to be cowering away from him. "Oh hell, don't tell me you're Fred. Ye don't even look like me brothers."

"Gee, thanks," Fred muttered, standing up straight and glaring at Ron as she folded her arms over her chest. "You're no looker either. You look like a punk kid that took his daddies warhammer and forgot to shave."

Ron rubbed at the reddish stubble on his cheeks frowning. "Clansmen don't bloody well shave. Ye'd know that ifin ye'd earned that tartan yer wearin'. That's the clan pattern o' the Aerie. Where'd ye get it?"

"I paid in blood for my clan colors," Fred growled, drawing a wicked looking dagger. "If you want to take them, come at me you little shit."

"FRED! What in the name of Malygos are you doing?" George strode forward, adjusting the strap on his cloak. "If he's here, we have to leave, now! Naaru's sake woman, who the hell knows what would happen if you fought or killed him!"

"I'd work out all the abandonment issues I've had for the last two decades," Fred muttered, but she sheethed her knife. "Well you can go, you yellow bellied gnome lover, but I'm staying. I don't care what Lucy and Chromie have to say about temporal anomalies or whatever. If Lucy got to go to Stormwind and save her's, I can damn well stay here and help mine."

"Do you have any idea what in the name of the Light those two are talking about," Maarad said quietly to Harry and Impa, pulling on his thick elekk hide cloak.

"Not a clue," Harry admitted. He glanced at Impa. "You?"

"I think...I think they have some connection to Ron and they're arguing about it," Impa whispered. "What Georgina, that is, Fredrika, told me at Valiance Keep, it was odd, but she did mention Ron, and...something else. I shall have to talk more to her."

"Will the two of you just please shut yer damn mouths," Ron groaned, rubbing his forehead with his fingers. He lowered his hands, glaring at the arguing mages. "Look, what are ye even here for? Did Khadgar have a message for me or somewhat?"

"Fred we-" George began, but he fell silent when his sister turned and glared at him.

"Look, Harry said you're going into Azjol Nerub," Fred said finally, turning back to the party. "We'll come with you. You'll need someone experience with finding their way in mazes, and Light knows we've experience with that sort of thing. Plus, we've experience dealing with the...things... you find below ground. You know what I'm talking about, don't you, Ron?"

Ron hesitated, shifting uneasily. "You mean...the Old Gods? They're here?"

"That they are," George said, coming to stand beside his sister. "And we're here because we have reason to believe that Harry setting out has stirred up the 'fins again. We don't need them ambushing you and ruining everything."

"You're friends with Rosalind and Midna, right?" Ron demanded. "They were working for Khadgar, hunting those things as well."

"Oh yes, we know them very well," Fred agreed. "They're practically like sisters to us. Though I think George here has the hots for Midna."

"That is extremely irrelevant to our task at hand," George said evenly. He looked to Harry. "Fine. My sister has a good sense for these things, and despite my misgivings I think we should help as well. Will you have us, Harry Potter?"

Harry looked to Impa, who was studying Fred and George intently. She nodded slowly. "They should come. At the very least, it will give us time to talk to them. And they were very useful against the Scourge before."

"Very well. But know we go into the direst peril. We will not be swayed from our mission: Quel'Delar must be restored. We venture through danger to the den of evil itself: Illidan's Doom in Icecrown."

"What? Why?" Fred asked, confused. "Quel'Delar's in the-."

George elbowed his sister, glaring at her before turning back to Harry. "Illidan's Doom is a wise place to start. My sister confuses it for Quel'Serrar, the sister blade of the Kal'Dorei. That is supposedly lost within Dire Maul in Kalimdor."

Fred massaged her side, but didn't speak, going suddenly pale.

"Well let's get started then," Ron said with a sigh. "Crok's probably waiting for us."

 _Authors Note:_

 _One small change for you WoW Lore nerds: the Nerubians, like the Mantid and Silithid, worship the Old Gods in this story. It doesn't make any sense they would fear the faceless ones and the servants of Yogg Saron, since every other race that was descended from the Aqir worship them, and are specifically gathered around the resting place of an Old God to serve them. Also, I sort of need someone to provide more insight into the Old Gods and the surviving nerubians can fill that role nicely._


	35. Through Darkenss and Death II

When the party left the village, Crok was indeed waiting just outside, standing as still as a pillar of ice just outside the village. The taunka guards were pacing back and forth nervously, eyeing the Death Knight as though they expected him to attack at any moment.

As the party approached, Crok shifted slightly to regard Fred and George, before turning his head to Maraad. "Who are these two?"

"Fred and George, mages of the Kirin Tor," Maarad answered. "We fought beside them before, at Valiance Keep. They have offered to assist us in our efforts to retrieve Quel'Delar."

"Hmph. Well, mages could be useful. Can the two of you make portals?" Crok demanded.

"We can," George answered, his expression neutral. Fred, for her part, looked like she was trying to set Crok on fire with her mind, which considering her profession was entirely possible. "I take it you desire a quick method of egress from Icecrown if necessary?"

"Only a fool would linger there," Crok rumbled. He nodded to the party. "Well, we best be off. Our guide, Kilix, waits for us in the Pit of Narjun. Come."

Crok turned and began to head down the trail towards the massive hole, Harry and the others walking along behind them. While the living members of the party each carried a pack containing rations, clothing, and other supplies, Crok bore only his weapons and armor. Apparently, the undead warrior didn't require much in the way of provisioning.

They climbed down into the pit, using the webs and robes of spider silk left behind by the nerubians to descend. The pit was cold and icy, and smelled of dust and decay. Several times, Harry sensed the motion of undead around them, but could not locate the source exactly. The area had to be honeycombed with tunnels, and the undead nerubians were all around them, unseen, but not undetected.

After about an hour of making their way down, they reached the bottom of the cavern floor, where glowing mushrooms grew in the darkness.

"Where is our guide?" Impa asked, raising a hund that cupped a glowing ball of flame to reveal the area around them.

From there darkness, there was a clicking sound and soft thrum. "Mmm, mmm, two legs, put that out. The servants of the traitor king see much, mmm, mmm."

Impa let out a gasp, turning as from the ceiling crawled a nerubian, exactly like the ones that had assaulted Valiance Keep, save for one key detail: this one yet lived.

"Do as he says," Crok growled. "Your light will attract the Scourge."

Impa reluctantly lowered her hand and the Light went out, leaving them all in near pitch blackness, save for dim light that still filtered from above.

"Mmm, I am Kilix the Unraveler, two legs," the nerubian said as it crawled forward on it's six legs, it's two hands rubbing together. "You seek passage through the city?"

"We are on a mission to retrieve a powerful relic," Harry stated. "It is a weapon we seek to use against the Scourge."

"Mmm, this is known. But him," Kilix came forward, towering over Ron, who gripped his warhammer in both hands, trying to see in the near darkness. "He carries the blood of the Old One upon him. He must be offered as a sacrifice to the Seekers to aton for the sins of the two legs."

"Try and I'll roast you to cinders, bugman," Fred growled, coming between the nerubian and Ron, her fists igniting in flames.

"He is needed to fight the Lich King," Crok said evenly. "You have to decide, nerubian. Do you hate the Traitor King more, or this boy who slew your pathetic god?"

"Mmm, mmm." Kilix scuttled back, rubbing his hands together in the glowing light of Fred's flames. At last he jerked his head up and down. "Very well. The Ancient One did not save us from the Lich King and his puppets. I shall guide you through the City. But be warned. The way is not safe. The Traitor King and his armies lie between us and our goal."

"Anub'arak," Crok muttered. "The King of Crypts is here?"

"Indeed. Mmmm. Something stirs within the city. Perhaps the Lich King has caught wind of your plans, two legs. Mmmm, we must hurry. If we stay, they will find us, and kill us."

Fred lowered her hands slowly, her flames flickering away. "Alright, but I don't bloody well like wandering about in the dark. We'll need some sort of light."

"As you will, two legs. But lights bring more than just the traitors here, mmmm." Kilix turned and began to skuttle down a tunnel, and Harry and the others followed, making small lights of their own to guild their way. Harry and Maraad affixed glowing symbols of the Naaru upon their foreheads, while Ron, Impa and Fred made small fires. George for his part conjured several small mage lights, which floated around his head, lighting the path.

Kilix lead the way, scuttling ahead for a time, then clinging to the ceiling and waiting for the party to approach. They walked for several minutes through winding tunnels, before coming to a large cavern that their minor lights could not penetrate.

"Mmmm, mmm, perhaps a little light here," Kilix murmured. He raised his hands, conjuring a glowing blue pillar of light. Harry shielded his eyes for a moment, but as they adjusted he gasped in amazement.

"Behold," Kilix murmured, his voice low and mournful. "Ahn'kahet. The Old Kingdom. Once the jewel of Azjol Nerub. Mmmm. Now a tomb of the damned."

Below them, spreading out for miles in the cavern lay a vast an ancient complex. Many great buildings could be seen, including a massive temple with the profane icons of the Old Gods upon it. The buildings were all of black stone, with architecture that reminded Harry of old pictures of the Temple of Luxor he'd seen back on earth. Great obelisks adorned the top of many buildings or were placed along pathways with scarab and spider icons, along with the many tentacled icon of the Old Gods. Spidly adornments like great insect legs arched over walkways or entrances to buildings, making each seem like a deadly lair. Phosphorescent fungi provided some light at various locations, but once Kilix dimmed his illumination they appeared as little more that fuzzy blotches of color.

"Mmmm, we must proceed carefully from here," Kilix said. "Come, two legs. I know the secret ways."

As Kilix lead them away, Harry looked out at the darkness, imagining the majesty of the once great city. "What happened here?" he asked Kilix. "Did the entire kingdom fall to the Scourge?"

"Fall? Mmmmm, yes, yes, fall we did. For years, we fought back the Scourge, lead by our greatest champion: Anub'arak, the Underking. Mmmmm, a mighty warrior, that one, blessed by the Old Ones. Anub'arak lead an assault upon Icecrown. Many warriors fell. Mmmmm, but Anub'arak returned. Claimed he had defeated the Lich King. Many sacrifices were made to The Thousand Maws that day, and much celebration. But it did not last."

"Anub'arak had not been victorious, mmmm, he had fallen, been slain by the Scourge. But he was raised again as the first and greatest Crypt Lord. He slew the High Priest of the Thousand Maws, and let in the undead hordes to the temple. All who had fallen in battle with the Scourge, mmmm, they returned to us. Our honored dead in the crypts, they were raised as minions of the Lich King. Mmmm, the traitor king, he is called now. Anub'arak: the Last King of Azjol'Nerub. He lies there now, waiting for the word of his master to march upon the mortal realms once more. Mmmm. See to it your own kingdoms do not fall in such a way."

"We drove out the Forsaken," Ron growled. "Lordaeron is cleansed of their filth. Once we have dealt with Arthas, we will track them down and slay them all."

"Mmm, a good plan. And yet, you travel with an undead in your midst. Mmmm. Troubling."

All eyes turned to Crok, but the Death Knight ignored the stares. He seemed to be seeing something that was not there, suddenly stopping and drawing his axe. "They come."

Harry's senses were baffled by the constant motion of the undead somewhere close by, but he soon realized that a large party was closing in on them. He drew his sword and shield, moving to guard the parties rear as Maraad and Crok stepped to cover their front. A moment later, nerubians began to swarm down the passage, identical to their guide in every way, save one: they were all dead.

Harry let the Song of the Naaru surge within him, and the Light filled him and flowed out of him, sanctifying the very ground upon which he stood. He hurled his shield at the onrushing foe with all his might, and it bashed in the head of one charging nerubian, then rebounded, snapping back onto his arm. Then the foe was upon him. The undead were weakened by the holy ground, and that gave the mages and shaman time to act. Fred and Ron stepped forward, sending a wave of flames down the passage Harry was defending. The nerubians died with snaps and pops of cooking, but no cries fo pain or rage. One undead crumbled to the ground at Harry's feet, and with a sigh, said, "Free, at last," then moved no more.

Behind Harry, George was aiding Crok and Maraad, conjuring up a ball of frost that slowly hovered up the passage ahead of them, freezing Nerubians in place so that Crok and Maraad could easily crush them. Impa canted a spell that summoned healing waters spirits that soothed and refreshed the party. Harry sliced and bashed at the undead that came at him, but after only a minute, the passage went silent once more, save for the panting of the party and the soft hiss of flames.

"Mmm, mmm, you are strong," Kilix said, dropping down from the ceiling. Harry looked up to see several slain nerubians dangling from silken webs Kilix had spun, the claws of the spider warrior covered in black ichor. "That is good. Perhaps you shall defeat the Scourge after all. Come. We have far to go before we can rest."

They continued through the tunnel down into the city, traversing a crumbled wall into a series of narrow passages through the undersections of buildings and through back allies. Several times they stumbled upon undead nerubians, but these were quickly dealt with. Harry felt as though he were going made, with the twists and turns they made, the constant presence of the undead like a ceaseless gong in the back of his mind. The constant peril weighed on all of the party, even Kilix, save for Crok who moved forward with a dull relentlessness that did not change even when a party of Scourge ambushed them once more.

"Foolisssh morals!" a giant undead scarab like nerubian hissed when they entered into the basement of an abandoned temple. "This land belongs to the dead!"

Kilix let out a his of shock and tried to back away as the crypt lord advanced along with a dozen lesser undead. Harry, however, sprang forward, raising his shield and calling upon the Light to send out a shock of holy magic that burned one undead to a crisp, and slashing at another with his sword. Ron came beside him, roaring in rage and swinging his mace that crackled with flame. Aesuga bit into the undead champion, driving him back for a moment. The crypt lord was not deterred for long, and brought his giant scythe like arms down to decapitate Ron. Harry managed to interpose himself, blocking the blow with his shield, but was driven back as Ron swore and tried to bring his mace around for another blow. Two more undead attacked from the side, slashing at Harry and Ron and wounding them both.

"NO!" George and Fred blinked into the melee, the twin mages back to back as they raised their weapons. A storm of fire and ice engulfed the small room, forcing Harry to raise a protective barrier of Light to shield himself and Ron. The lesser undead were shredded by the display of magical power, and even the crypt lord lost a leg. It struggled to right itself and lash out at the two mages, but Ron hurled a ball of fire at the tear in its armor. With a pop and sizzle, the crypt lord fell thrashing, and Harry stabbed it in the head, putting it to rest at last.

"Are you wounded?" Fred demanded, hurrying over to Ron.

"Not bad," Ron grunted. "Mostly got burned by that bloody stupid stunt you pulled."

Fred flushed and drew herself up. "Well you could at least say thanks you stubborn fool! You were nearly overwhelmed! If you would bend your bloody neck once in a while and ask for help, maybe you wouldn't have-"

"Enough," George snapped. "Come on, we can't linger here. Maraad and Crok drove off the undead that attempted to flank us, but more will come soon. We must hurry."

They continued through the city, following Kilix down several blind turns in through several bolt holes. At least, they slid down a well shaft to a hidden room half way down. Inside was a nest made of spider silk, along with urns of fresh water and bundles of edible fungi and salted meat of an unknown origin.

"There are wards on this cave," George observed, running his hands over several glowing runes. He made a face and spat to the side. "Foul things though. We will be hidden from the Scourge, but by the power of the God of Death."

"Mmmm, yes, yes. These places, created by the priests to allow our people a refuge. The Scourge will not find us here, as we sheltered in the Thousand Maws," Kilix said, rummaging through the cache of supplies.

"Hmph. Don't know what bloody good it will do you," Ron said, sitting down on the ground and pulling some salted pork from his pack. "That god is dead. I helped kill Yogg Saron myself."

No sooner had the name of the Old God left Ron's lips, then the warding runes seemed to flash, and whispers filled the cave. Ron leapt to his feet, eyes wide, as he raised his weapon as if to ward off the voices.

Kilix made a chittering sound, a noise like spiders crawling over old parchment. "Mmm, killed the Thousand Maws, did you? Well, even dead gods can dream. Mmm. Best not to speak the name of the Ancient One, least you draw it's ire, godslayer. It remembers, and it hates." Kilix chittered again, before crawling into a cleft in the wall to nibble at at a bit of fungus and dried meat.

Ron sat back down, looking pale, his pork forgotten on the floor. "Oh bloody hell."

Impa gathered up the meat, wiping it on her trousers, then putting it in a pot she and Harry and brought, along with some dried vegetables and additional meat. She lit a fire, and Harry filled the pot from an urn, making a simple stew. After a few minutes it was done, and Harry served up portions to all the party members, who accepted it quietly. Kilix seemed interested in the stew, sipping at it and making a humming noise as if he enjoyed it. Crok however, refused a bowl.

"Do you not hunger?" Harry asked. "We have plenty. Eat."

Crok eyed Harry for a moment. "I do hunger, fleshling. Though my hunger is one that can never be sated. Save your rations for the living; the damned cannot sup on mortal food."

Harry acquiesced, going back to sit with the others. Maraad was quiet, offering a silent prayer before eating mechanically. Ron's eyes were unfocused, and he kept flinching as if he heard voices no others did. Harry talked quietly with Impa, while Fred and George kept to themselves. When the meal was done and the bowls rinsed and stowed away, Impa went to sit beside Fred.

"You told me something once, and begged me to keep it silent. I have, but I wonder why. You knew Harry and I would be wed, didn't you?"

Fred glanced at her brother, but George closed his eyes and lay down as if to sleep. Fred licked her lips, then nodded. "I mean, anyone with a pair of eyes could have figured that out. Right, Maraad?"

"It is so," Maraad agreed, a slight smile on his lips. "Ever since Harry arrived at the Exodar, he has gone everywhere with Impa. Even when she was sent to Draenor, he found a way to accompany her. And when Harry was sent to Northrend, Impa found an excuse to join him. It did not take the Prophet's insight to foresee that future."

Fred let out a nervous laugh and nodded. "I mean, yeah. I just...saw the sparks flying. You two were meant for one another."

"How'd ye earn yer clan stripes, lass?" Ron said suddenly, his eyes snapping back into focus. "Yer brother's dressed like a chinaman, but ye've got highland garb. Where'd ye come by it?"

"By blood," Fred snapped, then sighed. "Look, you know we're with Chromie, right? Surely you can put two and two together."

Ron cocked his head to one side, eyes narrowing. "I've had visions of the future, ye know. That bear man...he was dressed like a chinaman too."

Fred's eyes suddenly went wide. "You...you saw the future? You saw a pan-a bear man?"

"Aye. Yog-that is, the Old God, showed me strange things. Harry dyin' with this Quel'Delar being given to Impa to pass to their child. Hermione turned to a demon and betrayin' her friends. And me, with a bear man, fighting the Scourge in some strange place."

"You are a prophet of the Thousand Maws?" Kilix asked, interrupting the conversation.

Ron glanced up at the Nerubian, who's dozen eyes glowed strangely in the light of the small campfire. "I am no a prophet. I did no want those mad visions, and I think they're a pack of lies. That thing can no be trusted."

"A prophet...mmm. Interesting." Kilix's eyes slowly faded back into the recess, and Ron shuddered slightly.

"Just what are the two o' ye?" Ron demanded of Fred. "I've met six o' ye and the dragon, Chromie. Ye from the future or some nonsense like that?"

"Not your future, Ronald Weasley," George said, not opening his eyes from where he lay. "That is all you need to know. Your visions were false. They will not come to pass."

"I weren't talkin' to ye, blondie," Ron snapped. He looked back to Fred, who looked incredibly nervous. "I think I know who Llane is, or at least Varian does. Midna I might have puzzled out as well, and Rosalind, well, ifin I guess right that's bloody disturbing. But ye two and Jasyn the night elf, I haven't a clue. Who are ye, and where, or perhaps when, do ye come from?"

"I'm telling him," Fred said abruptly, glaring down at George. "He has a right to know. So do Harry and Impa. Lucy be damned."

"Sure, if you want to trigger that Weasley stubborn streak and ensure he does whatever he can to make sure whatever you say doesn't come to pass," George replied, cracking open one eye. "You know how Lucy is, and how Aunty was. I'm sure that will work out well for you."

"Oh, fine. But I'm telling him...something!" Fred looked up at Ron, her brow furrowed. At last, she nodded. "Look, you know there were others sent here with you, right?"

"Aye. Khadgar said six. Harry says the Prophet Velen claims the same. But I know of only four. Ye know the other two?"

Fred chewed her lip, eyes looking back between Ron and Harry. "Do you know Neville Longbottom?"

Harry and Ron exchanged startled looks. "Well, yes," Ron admitted. "Haven't thought of the fat bastard in ages."

"Ron!" Harry protested. He shook his head. "Are you saying Neville is here, in Azeroth?"

"Yes," Fred said firmly. "He's with the night elves. Right now, he's somewhere in Kalimdor, training as a druid. We haven't been able to track him down, and it's driving Jasyn and Lucy mad."

"Who is this Lucy?" Impa suddenly asked. "You keep referring to her, but we know of no Lucy."

"Proof that my sister should keep her damn mouth shut is what she is," George muttered to no one in particular.

"Is she someone else from Earth?" Harry asked. "I don't recall any Lucy's, but then again I'd never met Ginevra either."

"She's one of us," Fred replied. "You do know her, or at least, know of her."

Ron's eyes narrowed. "You talked like she was Lucy Weasley. She supposed to be my wife or something?"

Fred's mouth flopped open, and George developed a sudden coughing fit. Ron grinned wickedly. "So I guessed right, did I? Wait, is she a bear lass? Because bloody buggering hell I am not marrying a damn bear."

Fred's mouth clacked shut, and she rapidly shook her head. "Lucy isn't...she's not a bear. And she's not...well, I guess from a certain point of a view she's a Weasley. Bloody well acts like it sometimes."

"Most of the time," George corrected, having recovered from his coughing fit.

"So that's me future wife then," Ron mused. He nodded. "Well, bugger that, I see any bint named Lucy I'm bloody well zapping her and telling the bitch to sod off."

"See, I told you," George murmured.

"Oh Light save us," Fred groaned. "Sometimes, I really, really don't like you...Ron."

"You spoke of Neville Longbottom," Impa said. "That makes five. Who is the other?"

Shaking her head, Fred lay down. "I'm not bloody telling you now or Ron's likely to make it his life's work to kill her."

"So it's a her?" Harry mused. "Hmmm. I wonder if it's someone else from Hogwarts? Maybe Lavender or Parvati?"

"Oh, Lavender would be a right fit bird by now," Ron mused. "Wouldn't mind bumping into her. Unless she's gone mad like Hermione. Hey, if I promise not to kill her, would ye tell us?"

Fred made a very rude gesture, and rolled over.

Crok stood suddenly. "Get some rest, fleshlings. I shall take the watches. I do not sleep."

"That is wise," Maraad said. He paced about the camp, setting small wards around the party. "This should shield our dreams,and alert us if the undead do approach."

Harry and Impa retreated to a small corner together, and the others studiously ignored them. As they lay in their blankets together, Impa drew Harry close and whispered in his ear. "What do you think of these six strangers we have met?"

Harry shifted to look Impa in the eye. "I don't know. They seem to be from some sort of future. They have strange knowledge and motivation. But...but one sticks out to me. You recall Midna?"

"How could I not? She has my mother's name," Impa answered, tracing a finger over Harry's chest. "She looks odd, for a draenei, does she not? Her horns are small, and her skin has an odd cast to it. And her hooves...she always wears those boots. What draenei wears boots?"

"I wear boots," Harry replied without thinking, then blushed. "Well, I mean, I think of myself as a draenei, but I know I am not-"

Impa silenced him with a kiss, then drew Harry yet closer. "You are my draenei. You know, one thing Fred said to me, is that I should name our child. What do you think of that?"

Harry groaned as Impa touched him, rolling on top of her. He didn't say anything, letting his actions afrim his agreement.

After about six hours, Crok awoke the party. "You have rested long enough. We must be on our way."

They climbed up out of the well on a rope of spider silk Kilix spun, cautiously making their way through the tunnels. Harry kept right behind Kilix, trying to keep his senses on alert to detect more ambushes, but he was continually filled with the dread of dozens of undead all around them, just behind a wall or above them. They walked in silence and near darkness, only using the barest of lights to avoid attention.

"Mmmm, now the dangerous part," Kilix told them as they approached the exit to a tunnel beneath a bridge. "We must enter the Temple of Volazj, Harbinger of the Ancient One. To do so, we cross the bridge. Through the temple is the tunnels that will lead under Icecrown, mmm, towards Illidan's Doom. We must be cautious. Mmmm, Scourge do not enter the temple, but keep a close watch upon it. Quickly and quiet now."

Kilix scrambled up the slope, leaving behind a line of web that the party swiftly came after. They had reached the midpoint of the bridge when an odd, reverberating clattering sound filled the cavern, echoing off the stone of the temple and the walls of the cavern.

"My, my, my. So this is the little group that's been playing with my spiders. I'm impressed: for so few, you have come quite far."

Harry's senses suddenly went wild as he felt the movement of hundreds of undead. He raised his sword, letting a ray of light illuminate the area. At the end of the bridge stood a tall, pale figure in fine robes, clapping pale hands with long talons. Blood red eyes gazed at them, and the mouth of the figure was half upturned in a twisted smile.

"San'layn," Harry gasped, raising his shield.

"Oh? So you know my kind, then?" the figure bowed. "I am Prince Taldaram. Oh! You must be those paladins who slew my brother, Prince Valanar. I must thank you! We of the Council of Blood are always looking for ways to forward our own power, and while our master has forbidden us from slaying one another, Valanar was too close to a powerful artefact for his own good. I sense...yes...you carry the hilt upon you, do you not? Excellent."

"I'll rip your spine from your body and beat you to death with it," Crok growled, stepping forward, axe in hand.

Taladram snarled and took a step back. "You! A Knight of the Ebon Blade are we now, Crok? Do these mortals know what you have done? What masters you have served?"

Crok remained silent, slowly advancing towards Taladarm. The prince shook his head. "I may thirst, but I am not fool enough to fight you alone. Minions! Do not let this fool approach me!"

Out of the darkness swarmed hundreds of undead nerubians, coming at them from all sides. Harry took an involuntary step back, but Crok planted his feet, raising his axe above his head. "I chose this path, Taladarm. I'll put you down like the whimpering dog you are!"

Suddenly the ground began to quake as dark tendrils of necrotic magic rippled out of Crok. From under the bridge crawled the skeletons of many long dead things, from Nerubians to bats to large spiders the size of hounds. The undead Crok had summoned scuttled forward, meeting Taladarm's forces in a wave of bone and chichen. The undead began to tear each other apart, and Crok waded in, swinging his axe in wide arcs. Whatever he felled rose again, turning on its former allies.

Behind Harry, more undead came across the bridge from the rear.

"We'll hold them off!" George called, raising his staff and summoning a blizzard. "You press forward! Kill their overlord! It will weaken and confuse the Scourge for a time!"

"Go! We'll catch up!" Fred called. She infused several Scourge with flame, which exploded when they were hit by George's ice spell. The fiery bombs spread like a disease, wiping out ranks of the undead as Fred frantically cast new ones at key points in the enemy ranks.

Maraad was the first forward, his hammer sweeping the path before him free of undead. "For Argus! Forward the Light!"

Impa and Ron followed behind Marad, Impa calling down a thunderstorm that sent healing rains upon her allies while bolts of lightning crashed into the nerubians. Ron lashed out with bursts of flame, striking at the larger crypt lords that tried to force their way through Crok's mounting wall of undead. Kilix had vanished, but Harry had no time to worry about their guide as guarded the rear, preventing any undead from circling around and attacking his friends from the rear. He hacked with his sword and bashed with his shield, calling upon the Light to cleanse the ground under them and cover their retreat.

The undead seemed endless, but for every one that fell, Crok raised it up again. Soon Harry's party was no longer under constant assault, the undead now locked in furious combat with one another. Crok waded forward towards Taldaram, who was trying desperately to raise his own troops as fast as the Death Knight was.

"I will feast on your remains!" Taldaram hissed as Crok approached, the San'layn lept forward, dodging Crok's axe and sticking his fangs in the undead orcs throat.

Crok ignored this, ripping his foe away so that a dark trickle of congealed blood ran down his now shredded throat. "Weak. Just like your master. Tell Ner'zhul I'm coming for him in hell." Crok slammed the san'layn to the ground, crushing his skull with his boot.

The undead spiders continued to tear at each other for several minutes, their fury slowly dying down until only a few confused Scourge wandered the battlefield. Ron and Impa destroyed them with a few spells, and Fred and George came over, panting and drained after continuous casting spells for several minutes.

"Thank you," Maraad said to Crok, leaning and his warhammer. "You are quite skilled in combat."

"Let me heal you," Impa offered, extending her hand towards Crok's wounds.

The orc shook his head. "Avert your eyes, fleshlings. I shall heal my own wounds, and it shall not be pleasant."

Harry was unable to look away as Crok lifted up the corpse of Prince Taldarm and began to consume the flesh of the other undead. The Death Knight ripped and tore like a wild beast, even cracking the San'layn's bones and sucking out the marrow.

"Bloody hell," Ron muttered, taking a step back. "That's vile. Where does he even put it all?"

Crok finished, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, and grinned at Ron. "I do not gain sustenance from the flesh of my foes. Instead, I use it to heal my own wounds, and power my own spells. It is better with a fleshling's blood and guts, but a powerful undead like Taldaram will do, unskilled as he was."

Harry felt ill and turned his head away, retching on the ground. Impa patted his back, her face twisted in disgust. Fred and George alone had turned their backs, and Harry overhead them quietly discussing if they should just kill the Death Knight. Even Maraad looked sickened, but before they could process what had happened, Kilix crawled out from under the bridge and scuttled forward.

"Mmm, the two legs survive. To use the weapons of our foes against them...mmmm, it is effective, but blasphemous. Come. We must enter the temple."

Crok shouldered his axe and strode forward after their guide, and a moment later, Harry followed, Impa at his side, her hand on his back to comfort him.

"We should purge all the bloody undead from the whole damn world," Ron muttered. "I don't care if the Death Knight's say they're on our side. We'd be better off rid of them."

"We would have died back there if not for Crok's help," Maraad observed, but Fred and George nodded at Ron's words.

"First sensible thing you've said this whole trip," Fred said, nodding to Ron. "Maybe you're not completely stupid after all."

"Yer spell work wasn't too shabby," Ron grunted. "Maybe you're not as useless as ye are ugly."

Fred's eyes widened in anger, but Kilix turned his head and hissed at them. "Mmmm. Silence in the temple. The Scourge does not enter it for a reason."

The party fell silent, climbing up the black steps. At the top was a black door carved with thousands of dripping maws full of teeth, at the center of which were two burning eyes surrounded by tentacles. The air felt thick and heavy, and the eyes seemed to follow Harry's every move, boring into his soul.

"Come, Prophet of the Ancient One. We enter the hallowed halls of the Thousand Maws Herald. Mmmm, let his chosen prophet lead our way," Kilix said, bowing to Ron.

Ron blanched, but stepped forward, pushing the doors open, revealing a black, seemingly endless hall that seemed to bend and twist so that the floor ended up to the walls in a spiral.

Harry took a deep breath, and followed as Ron stepped into the maw of madness.


	36. Through Darkness and Death III

As Harry stepped through the threshold of the temple, half heard whispers filled his ears, and his eyes darted about at unseen shadows. He could sense no undead, but it was as if something was devouring his Light given senses and causing numbness where sensation should be. Impa stayed close behind him, and together they followed Ron through the whispering hall.

"Mmmm, the Ancient Ones, they sense your presence," Kilix said, scuttling on the ceiling below-no, above! Harry. The twisting sensation of the halls made Harry's stomach flip flow, and he tried to keep his composure as they ventured forward.

"I feel the breath of the Old God," Ron growled. "This is madness. I saw that thing die. Watched Hellscream splatter its brains over the ground."

"Dead gods do not truely die," Crok said, his axe in his hands. His wounds from earlier were healed, and to think of how he had cannibalized the Blood Prince made Harry's stomach churn even more. "They lie dreaming within the Halls of Madness, waiting for the day when they shall awaken, and return."

Maraad shook his head, his chin tendrils swaying slightly. "By the Naaru, I wish we had a company of anchorites to cleanse this place."

Fred and George stayed silent, but Harry noticed they were holding hands, watching each other's backs. For all their bickering, the twin mages seemed to implicitly trust one another when things became grim.

They walked down the halls for what seemed an age, until they came to a large torch lit chamber.

"Hault!"

Ron jerked to a halt, and out of the shadows stepped a male human and a troll in bright robes with madding patterns down the hems. "Who trespesses in the Halls of our master?"

"Mmmm, I have brought a Prophet of the Ancient One," Kilix said, dropping down between Ron and the strangers. "Jedoga will wish to see these ones, mmm, yes."

"Bloody hell, there's people living down here?" Ron demanded, edging around Kilix so he could get a clear shot.

The man glared at Ron, raising a staff in a warding gesture. "We are the Harbingers of Doom! We have heard the Whispers, and obey! Who are you, child?"

"Mmm, he is the Prophet," Kilix declared. "He has seen the Thousand Maws. They call him Godslayer."

"Oh?" the female troll stepped forward, peering at Ron. "Dis one be a servant of the Old Gods as well?"

"Bugger you!" Ron snarled, his off hand igniting in flame as he raised Asuega. "I serve the Spirits, not a dead god!"

"Hmph. Well, perhaps we should allow Jedoga to decide their fate," the man said. He motioned Kilix forward. "Take them to the Chamber of Visions. Jedoga communes with the Herald."

Harry edged around the man and troll, keeping his sword ready. What were members of the Horde and Alliance doing in a temple of the Dark Gods?

"Cultists," Fred whispered as they moved down a passage lit by braisures. "The Twilight's Hammer."

"Twilight's Hammer?" Harry asked.

George blanched, glancing back over his shoulder where the two watchers had resumed their positions to guard the temple entrance. "People who have given themselves over to the service of the Old Gods. They heard the whispers, and went mad, or they seek power, and the dark gods can give it. This is where we'll find the Infinite Dragonflight."

"Are they servants of the Old Gods?" Ron demanded, shivering. "That would make too much bloody sense."

"They are servants of one who seeks to become an Old God," Fred replied. She shook her head. "I will say no more. It hasn't happened yet, and we'd best bloody well hope it doesn't."

As they went down the passage after Kilix, they could hear chanting in a strange, warped tongue. Harry couldn't quite understand the words, but they lingered in his mind. He focused on the Song of the Naaru, driving away the chants, and filling himself with the Light. Maraad was doing the same, and took a position at the rear toward their party from madness.

After moving through the spiraling halls for a time, they went down deeper into the earth, coming at last to a large open chamber. A profane altar covered in blood and growing blackened tendrils lay at the center of the chamber, which was filled with robbed humanoids, chanting together. Around the altar were scattered the remains of dozens of nerubians that had been carved up and offered as dark sacrifices, as well as the corpse of a bronze drake, its head missing.

At the altar stood two figures: one an orc woman naked save for a slick of dark blood on her skin, and a harness of dried bones tied to her that did nothing to hide her nudity. The dripping skull of a drake sat upon her head as some sort of mask, and her eyes glowed with madness.

Beside the orc was a figure that made Ron and the twin mages halt in their tracks. Aeonus the Infinite stood in his humanoid form, his glowing white eyes stark against his skin as black as midnight. He smiled, nodding to the party that had stopped in the entryway. "And so fate draws you all forward once more. You seek to avert disaster, and yet, you are here, in the halls of your enemy. At last you see that the time you thought you still had, has run out."

From behind, Harry heard the sound of tramping feet. He looked back up the twisting staircase to see infinite dragonspawn walking down the steps towards them, weapons at the ready. The party spilled out into the chamber, taking up a defensive circle.

"Mmmm, what is this, Jedoga?" Kilix demanded, his eyes spinning about wildly as the Infinite Dragons closed in. "These are not servants of the Ancient One. They are usurpers, mmm, servants, not the master."

"Yogg Saron sleeps once more, nerubian," the orc woman laughed. "And the Infinite Dragonflight offers power now! They seek the same as us: for time to end, and our masters to rise and consume all! We only seek the rising of a different god now: Murozond! The Black Wings that shall shatter the hourglass of time forever and put an end to this miserable existence!"

Aeonus smiled and nodded. "Indeed. And for that to happen, I require two sacrifices: the blood of-"

As one, three voices roared,"GET STUFFED!" and balls of flame and ice flew from Ron and the twin mages hands to crash into Aeonus. The dragon roared in anger, his form flickering for a moment.

"KILL THEM ALL!" Aeonus raged. "FATE DEMANDS THEIR DEATHS! THE SANDS OF TIME HAVE RUN OUT!"

With shrieks of rage and howls like mad beasts, the cultists in the room rushed forward as from behind the dragonspawn struck. Harry's sword struck down the first cultist to attack him, he saw that she was but a human woman in her middle years. For the first time he took the life of a fellow sentient being, not just a beast or one of the undead. The feeling sicked Harry, but he saw Impa take a slash from a knife at his side, and righteous anger filled him. The Song of the Naaru burst out of Harry like a storm as angelic wings sprang from his back. His sword glowed with power as his eyes blazed with holy fire. Casting aside his doubts, Harry roared a battle cry and cast a dazzling spell, causing the cultists to see nothing but him.

The wave of maniacs broke over Harry, their blades bouncing off his armor. He took a few minor wounds, but with the Light flowing through him they closed quickly. Harry bashed and slashed, blind to all but the foes before him. He had a vague sense that Maraad and Crok had taken up the rear, defending the staircase so that the dragonspawn could not flank him, but Harry's eyes stayed forward, and he stood like a bulwark before his friends.

After what felt like an age but what must have been only minutes, all the cultists that had filled the chamber lay dead or dying. Behind Harry, Crok and Maraad still guarded the staircase, but the dragonspawn were in retreat, unwilling to continue their assault for now.

"It's time to put you down like the mad dog you are, Aeonus," Fred growled, stepping forward beside Harry. She raised her fiery orb, teeth bared in a feral grin.

"Fools!" Jedoga laughed. "The sacrifice has been made! The blood has been spilled in offering! Let our dark master accept it!" Raising her staff, the orc cult leader chanted a dark spell. Harry tried to hurl his shield at her to end it, but before he could he slipped as the blood that slicked the floor began to flow towards Jedoga.

After a moment Harry managed to right himself, but then it was too late. Jedoga grasped the dark sphere of blood in her hands, laughing madly. "Accept my offering, O Murozond the Infinite, Aspect of the End!"

"Your offering is...suitable," Aeonus hissed. He slid behind Jedoga, who suddenly grunted, looking down at her belly. A single white dragon claw stood out from her abdomen, so large that it separated her torso from her legs. "Worry not, mortal. Your life would have ended regardless. But with your own time poured out, fate's circle will be complete here!"

Jedoga coughed up blood, chuckling one last time before toppling over, dead. Aeonus retracted his claw, resuming his fully human form. "And now, let the sins of the past be delivered! Behold your failure, mortals, and despair!"

The blood flowed out of the orb, forming two figures. One was huge and distorted, an amalgamation of three corpse: an abomination. Harry gasped in horror as he recognized the undead: it was Hagrid, the half giant groundskeeper of Hogwarts who had been Ron and Harry's favorite teacher, combined with their former bullies, Crabbe and Goyle, stitched together in as a bloated festering corpse.

"'arrry...Ron...why'd...why'd you leave? We...we waited...but yah never came," Abomination Hagrid groaned. Crabbe and Goyle's heads, sprouting from Hagrid's shoulder and thigh, just blinked stupidly as the extra arms waved about.

The second figure formed into a human figure in black plate, his sword smoldering with black fire as his white dead eyes stared through Harry's soul: it was King Varian Wrynn, now an undead Death Knight. "You failed, children. You failed the Alliance and Stormwind. Now, you will bow down to the Queen of Death, and join my eternal family!"

"What...what madness is this?" Ron gasped, taking a step back. "Hagrid...what the bloody hell happened to you?"

"You-Know-Who came back," Hagrid moaned as he shambled forward on three legs. "He came back different, though. A floating skeleton. Summoned by the Cult o' the Damned, students at Hogwarts who betrayed us all. I tried to fight, honest, but...but ye can't fight the Lich Queen. Ye have to obey her. And she wants you lot dead."

"Screw you old man!" Fred shrieked, throwing fire at the dead Varian. "I don't remember you anyway!"

"They're not real, they're just conjurings," George shouted as he summoned his water elemental. "Tricks Aeonus is playing on us to unnerve us! Fight on!"

"They come again!" Maraad called from behind Harry. "We shall hold them off! You five, deal with this Aeonus and his summonings!"

Harry steeled his nerve and charged, raising his shield to block the blow from the Hagrid Abomination as his sword parried a thrust from the fel blade of Varian. Behind him, Ron and Impa hurled lighting as George and his water elemental shot bolts of frost. The spells hit their foes, but didn't seem to injure the undead much.

Raising her orb, Fred glared at Aeonus. "I'll see my own fate burn before I let you have your way, 'fin! Sick 'em, boy!"

"RETH RETH RETH RETH!" a massive fire elemental burst from Fred's orb, its arms covered in golden bands of power as it grew to nearly fill the chamber. Sweat burst out all over Harry's body as the temperature went from chilled to roasting in an instant. Impa immediately called upon water spirits to soothe and cool Harry and the others, keeping the worst of the heat off of them.

The Death Knight Varian spun away from Harry, raising his blade to strike at the fire elemental. He unleashed a blast of unholy power, but the elemental didn't even seem slowed. It swung a burning fist at the fallen king, who met the attack with his blade. The sword smoked and hissed, glowing red hot as it deflected the blow, but the undead warrior was driven back.

The abominable Hagrid began to smoke and smolder, the ichor and putrid liquids that oozed from him hissing and popping as they began to boil. The undead half giant still struck at Harry though, who forced aside his revulsion and sliced at Hagrid with his sword. Ron circled around to the side, then fired a bolt of lightning directly into the abominations head. Hagrid's beard caught fire and he roared in pain. Seeing his chance, Harry sprang forward, calling upon the Light and stabbing Hagrid in the gut. Rotting offal poured from the wound, and Hagrid sank to his knees and Crabbe and Goyle's heads wailed in agony.

"I'm sorry," Harry whispered. "I'll find a way to save you." Then he plunged his sword into Hagrid's right eye. The abomination flailed about, and Ron bashed Crabbe's head with his mace as Impa shot a bolt of lightning at Goyle's. With a moan, the abomination fell, twitched, then lay still.

Hagrid was dealt with, Fred and George were not idle. The fallen Varian and the fire elemental still battled, but the twin mages circled around to the side, then went back to back. In a on odd, graceful dance, they twirled around each other, balls of fire and ice racing around them like orbiting planets. They came to the end of the dance clasping their left hands as their right hands stretched forward. The ice and fire crashed together, creating a beam of both ice and flame that enveloped the undead Varian for an instant. The Death Knight screamed, his armor freezing, then melting, finally shattering from the drastic shifts in temperature. He fell, a gaping hole in his chest. The fire elemental slammed it's fist down, melting the Death Knight's helmet to his bones. He twitched, then did not stir.

Harry stepped forward, his for companions at his back as he raised his sword in challenge to Aeonus. "Now you die, dragon. Whatever folly you conjured is ended! Now we shall put paid to you once and for all!"

"Conjured, you say?" Aeonus laughed, his too white teeth flashing in the light from the fire elemental. "Oh no. These nightmares are all too real: a glimpse of what has been, and will be. Farewell, mortals. We shall meet again, and then your destiny shall be fulfilled." The dragon dissolved into sand as Harry sprang forward over the corpses, his blade meeting only empty air.

"Damn him," Fred growled. She raised her orb, now a simple glass sphere. "Back in you go, boy. Play time's over."

The fire elemental stretched out a single finger to touch the orb, then began to dissolve like smoke as it was sucked inside. The room went back to it's previous chill, and Fred pocketed her trinket.

"That…" Ron said, staring at Fred. "Was Reth."

George sighed and sat down heavily on a stone bench as Fred cringed and tried to find somewhere to hide. "Oh, um, that? It was a fire elemental, yes, but you know, not just shaman can summon and bind elementals!"

"I know that," Ron growled, stalking over to the mage. He had not yet gotten his full growth, so he was still a good two inches shorter than Fred. Nevertheless, she scrambled away as if she were a child who had been caught using her father's forbidden tools. "But that wasn't just any bloody fire elemental! That was Reth!"

"You know Reth just means burn in Kalimag, don't you?" George said tiredly. "It's a pretty common word and name for a child of Ragnaros."

"I ken that, but she has my elemental!" Ron thrust his hand into his tunic and pulled out a wooden totem carved in the shape of a gryphon's head. "Now give it back before-" he paused, a look of confusion coming over his face. He raised the totem, and a much smaller fire elemental sprang out.

"Reth reth reth," the elemental chanted. It was about the size of Ron, not nearly as big as the nearly twenty foot monster Fred had called forth.

"Bloody hell," Ron muttered, scratching his scalp. "He's right bloody here. But I felt...I felt Reth when you called your elemental forth."

"It is fascinating how moronic you are, fleshling," Crok growled as he stalked forward, dark armor covered in dragon's blood. "But we do not have time to marvel at your stupidity. We must not linger here. Kilix! Come out from your hiding place, and lead us from here!"

A strand of silk dropped from the ceiling, and Kilix slid down, dry washing his hands. "Mmmm, did not know...did not think...mmmm, Jedoga betrays the Ancient One. Prophet, this lowly one apologizes. Mmmm, our life is yours. Our blood must pay for our transgression."

"Oh shut up and just show us how to get the hell out of here," Ron growled, raising his totem and recalling Reth into it.

Kilix scrambled forward towards an exit behind the altar, but Harry fell back to check on Maraad with Impa. The Vindicator was breathing hard, his armor dented and his body bleeding from half a dozen wounds. Impa lay her hands upon Maraad, and he sighed in relief as his wounds closed.

"Are you well?" Harry asked.

Maraad nodded, shouldering his hammer. "I shall live, thanks to the Light and you, Impa. Come. We must hurry, or we shall be left behind. No telling what else lurks in this foul place."

"What of Crok?" Impa asked as they hurried after Kilix. "Was he wounded?"

"Perhaps, but I cannot tell," Maraad said, shaking his head. "I know he is our ally, but his powers and bearing disturb me. He does not flinch, does not falter, only continues on. But when he fights...it is like watching a beast be unleashed. I have no love for wicked dragonspawn, but they are living creatures, if twisted ones. But he cut them down as if he were making wood for a fire. His only pause came when he could not raise their corpses as his vile creations."

"I do not like working with his kind," Harry muttered. "But I know of no better guide in Icecrown, and we must have Quel'Delar. The Highlord seems to trust the Ebon Blade. We must put our faith in his good judgement."

"The Highlord is but a man," Impa said with a sigh. "Even the Prophet Velen has been deceived and lead astray from time to time. And he has far greater experience and wisdom to draw on. Crok is an undead orc. He is twice our foe."

"Are the orcs really our enemies now?" Harry asked. "Impa, we've talked about this. They have repented: we must forgive them."

"To forgive is one thing. To forget the past, another," Impa said, looking ahead and not meeting Harry's eyes.

"To be draenei is to recall the lessons of the past," Maraad agreed. "We harbor no ill will against the orcs. But their lives are short, and their memories, shorter. Their friendship today may mean little tomorrow."

Harry looked up at Crok, striding implacably forward just behind Kilix, and recalled his savaging of Taldaram's corpse, and could not find it in himself to argue. He did not trust Crok in the slightest, and while he might trust the living orcs, he had not lost his mother to them.

As the progressed through the tunnel, the black stone began to be threaded with an odd, shimmering blue metal. Ron ran a hand over the veins of ore, frowning. "What kind o' ore is this, Kilix? This is the wrong rock to be carrying ore. It's volcanic."

"Mmmm, ore? Yes...yes I suppose it could be used as such. Saronite, the two legs call it."

Ron jerked his hand away, his face going pale. "Saronite? It's...made from the Old God?"

Kilix paused before a vein of saronite, bowing before it. "Blood of the Maw, dripping through its prison. Mmmm, for time beyond time, the Thousand Maws lay within its prison, its blood seeping through the walls. Seeding the land with its blessings. It was with saronite that made my people became the nerubian: the many legged. Before, we were the aqir, those of four legs. Mmmm, but the Thousand Maws blessed us with many legs, to more resemble it's holy form."

The party followed Kilix as the passed more silvery blue veins, glowing with a throbbing inner light. "Mmm, before time, before the world, there was nothing: the Void. From the Void came the Ancient ones. From nothing they came, from nothing they shall go, as all reality shall, for all is nothing, and nothing is all. Mmmm, the Ancient One's writhed and struggled. From their juices emerged the aqir: the four legged ones, the first race. They served the Ancient Ones, feeding them, tending them, worshiping them. Mmm, there was no time, no history, only an endless cycle of emergence, feeding, and nothing."

"But then came the Light, the terrible, burning Light. It sought to eradicate the aqir, but the Ancient One's sheltered their spawn in their shadow. We dug beneath the earth, mmmm, deep in the earth, away from the Light. The terrible Light sought to destroy us still, and bound the Ancient Ones in the earth. The shook and struck at the earth, mmmm. In their fury, the forced time into the nothingness, and from that came pain and sorry. Mmm, the Light blinded, and the Light burned, and the Light put the Eye of Wrath in the sky, and eye of Sorrow even when the Eye of Wrath closed."

"The Light formed the two legs, the great curse upon the land. Mmm, the two legs hated us, tried to destroy us, for they were abandoned by the Light. Mmmm, the Ancient Ones gave us gifts, gave us power, for our sacrifices, for our worship. We fought the two legs for a thousand years, but the Eye of Sorrow fell to the Earth and made the tall things grow; the trees. Mmm, the Eye of Sorrow wept, and from its tears came the pools of sorrow that drove back the Ancient ones, and the children of Sorrow, who you two legs call the elves, mmmm, the wicked elves, the terrible elves, the elves that kill and hunt. We fled far away, where the elves could not find us, and sheltered in the shadow of the Thousand Maws, the greatest of the Ancient Ones."

"That is how the world came to be, mmm, and how the world is. Ever shall the children of Light and the children of Nothing battle. Mmmm, for even now the Dead Ones seek to bind the Ancient Ones, for they too are children of the Light, of the sun."

"I have listened to your nonsense, but no more!" Maraad snapped at Kilix. "The Scourge are no children of the Light: they were once the tools of the Burning Legion, tools that proved to be as dangerous to the hand the wielded them as the foe they were to be used against. The Naaru made all and brought order to the Universe. Your Ancient Ones are nothing but mockeries of creation, brought into existence by those that choose to walk the path of evil instead of the way of the Light."

"You have your stories, two legs, and we, ours," Kilix replied. "Mmm, I wonder, what are your Naaru hiding from you? Mmmm, have they brought you good, or sorrow?"

Harry shook his head. "The Light hides nothing. You are blinded by your masters, condemned to serve the god of death. Walk in the Light, Kilix. Then your people shall be free, used no more as servants of the Scourge or as fodder for your dark masters."

Kilix chuckled. "Bold words, young two legs. But you are in my masters realm, not yours. Mmmm, I would speak with more respect. Your Light has little power now."

Indeed, the further into the tunnel they went, the more Harry felt the Light fade. He couldn't even sense the undead now, so numbed were his senses. He felt as though he were being smothered slowly, and struggled to breath, to find the Song of Naaru within him, but it was muted and distant, distorted by the evil all around him.

The tunnel widened slightly, and the whispers that had surrounded them since they entered the Temple grew in intensity, so much so that Harry felt like covering his ears to block out the noise.

"Mmm, they come. The Faceless have sensed you, Prophet. They come to see your visions, to lay bare your mind. Give in, two legs. Give in to the madness, and you may yet be spared." Kilix flung himself down, going prorate and chanting along to the whispers, endless rambling madness that seemed to hold meaning, but in the end, were nothing.

"Oh bloody buggering hell," Ron whispered, raising his mace in two trembling hands. "It's the Faceless ones."

 _Sk'yahf qi'magg luk sshoq anagg'qen_

From the darkness before them, figures emerged. Some tiny, the size of a gnome, others the size of a man, still others bigger than Maraad. Each had writhing tentacles and tendrils that seemed to sprout into many flailing limbs, only to shift back to one single appendage, only to bloom and split again and again. They had no faces, only eyes that burned in a writing mass of tendrils. Some were a single color, purple, pink, fluorescent blue, or shimmering green, others were black as night, and still others shifted through rainbow hues. To gaze upon them was to know madness, to hear them was to lose all meaning.

One faceless, however, stood twenty feet tall and came to the front of the shifting shambling mass, bearing a staff that seemed to be made of a single piece of wood that curved back in on itself in impossible lines that twisted back and forth upon themselves.

"Death and madness," Crok hissed, raising his axe. "We must slay them before they drive us all insane!"

Harry tried to draw his sword, but his fingers were clumsy, and he felt as though he were moving through liquid. Impa reached out for him, and Harry grasped on to her, trying to take strength from his beloved. The giant faceless raised its staff, saying:

 _Y'knath k'th'rygg k'yi mrr'ungha gr'mula._

Somehow, Harry knew what it meant: Truth lies in death, your dreams shall end.

Harry wept, clinging to Impa as madness filled his mind.


	37. Through Darkness and Death IV

Slowly, Harry came to. He found himself lying on the ground in black robes, his vision blurry. He reached to his face, and found glasses there. He removed them, frowning. The Light long ago had restored his vision, he hadn't worn glasses in years.

"Harry?"

Sitting up, Harry found Impa struggling to her feet, dressed in black robes as well. She reached down and helped him up. "What is happening? Where are we?" Impa asked, looking around.

Harry frowned at Impa's robes, reaching out and pulling her closer to study the emblem on them. "Hogwarts," Harry whispered. "These...these are Hogwarts school robes."

"Hogwarts? Is that not the school of magic you attended on Earth?" Impa asked, puzzled.

"Yes," Harry said, looking around. The were in a large hall, set for a feast. Jack O Lanterns floated all around them, and festive fall centerpieces adorned the tables. "We...we're in Hogwarts. In the Great Hall. Where are Ron and the others?"

Just then the doors of the Great Hall opened, and in walked Dumbledore along with Professor Snape.

"Albus, I am telling you, the boy is up to something. I know Draco is holding his little meetings in that damned room on the seventh floor behind that hideous tapestry. But it's been locked somehow. Even the house elves can't get in there anymore."

Dumbledore sighed, shaking his head. "I know Draco is up to something, Severus. I fear he has been communicating with Voldemort. Where he is, I do not know, but perhaps Draco can lead us to him. I hate to use the boy so, but until Harry and the others return we must-"

"Potter is gone, Albus!" Snape snapped as the stopped before the high table. "He is never coming back! Whatever this Guardian Medivh told you, Potter and the others are gone, forever! We have seen nothing of them in four years! Nothing! We must find a way to defeat the Dark Lord ourselves!

"Who are these men?" Impa asked, going over to stand by Dumbledore and Snape. She waved her hand between them, but neither man seemed to see her, continuing their conversation.

Harry shook his head in confusion, coming to stand by Impa. "That's my old Headmaster, Albus Dumbledore. And Snape...he was my teacher. I thought he was the one to steal the stone, but why is he talking about fighting Voldemort? I don't understand."

"-even the Elder Wand might not be enough," Snape snapped at Dumbledore. "Can these guardians of yours provide us with weapons? That Tomb of Naga from Archanea proved most effective in slaying the Serpent of Slytherin."

"Guardian Robin has not answered my inquiries of late," Dumbledore replied. "Nor have the other Guardians. They have all fallen silent. We must look to our own world for weapons to employ against the Dark Lord. For now, however, we must act against Draco. Tonight, after the feast, invite him into your study. Slip the boy some Veritaserum. Find out if he is working for Voldemort, and what he knows. That will give us a start."

"Finally you see sense," Snape said, nodding. "I will have our answers in no time. I know that Draco knows something about Karkaroff's disappearance two years ago. He's hinted as much a dozen times over. I'm certain the Dark Lord is behind the disappearances of so many of his old followers, and behind that mysterious plague that's been baffling the muggle doctors."

"Yes, that disease is troubling the International Confederation of Wizards. It hasn't affected wizard kind yet, but only because we keep away from the muggles normally. Dark times, Severus. Dark times. I must be off now to deal with the ICW, but shall return by morning. Keep an eye on things for me here, Severus. And do try to save some pumpkin pastries for me, they are my favorite."

Dumbledore departed, and Snape sat at the High Table. Soon the hall began to fill with students. Impa looked around, frowning. She stepped in the path of some students, but they simply walked through here. "We are as ghosts. What is happening? I would be excited to see your homeworld, Harry, but a sense of dread fills me. What are the faceless doing?"

"I don't know," Harry admitted. "Come on. Let's try and get out of here, find our way back."

They hurried to the open doors of the Great Hall, stepping through towards the Hogwart entrance. Instead of going through, they simply walked through the back wall of the Great Hall, appearing behind Snape.

"We are trapped," Impa snarled. She raised her hand and tried to conjure lightning, but nothing happened. "How do we get out?"

Harry and Impa searched for several minutes as the Great Hall filled up, but to no avail. Their search was interrupted by a nasaly voice.

"Your attention, my friends," a blond haired youth said, standing up on the Slytherin table. "I have an announcement to make."

"Draco?" Harry said, turning away from his and Impa's attempts to open a side door.

"That is the boy who challenged you to that foolish duel, is it not?" Impa asked as she continued to fiddle with the lock.

"What, exactly, do you wish to tell us, Mr. Malfoy?" Snape demanded, half rising from his chair.

Draco bowed, a sneer on his face. "A gift, Professor. A gift from myself, to all of Hogwarts. It will only take a moment."

"Very well, Mr Malfoy. Keep your remarks brief, the feast is nearly over."

Draco stood and raised a glass. "First, a toast. To our dear esteemed Headmaster: may he be richly rewarded as he so justly deserves."

Snape raised an eyebrow at Draco's toast, but allowed it.

Awkwardly the students and staff raised their glasses and drank, even Draco, who then threw down his goblet and grinned.

"Impa, something's wrong," Harry said, frowning. "Draco hates Dumbledore. What's he doing?"

Impa turned around to stand beside Harry. She shivered. "Harry, I don't like this. Come, we have to go."

But Harry stood transfixed as beside Draco, Crabbe and Goyle stood, producing long knives from their robes."Our lives for Ner'zhul!"

Harry and Impa gasped in shock as the two boys plunged their blades into their guts, slicing and twisting so their bowels spilled out over the table.

Draco laughed, cackling madly as many around the hall collapsed, twitching, including many Slytherins and several professors. Snape stood shakily, going for his wand, only to convulse and collapse back into his chair, his face frozen in horror. A few students stood up from around the hall, grinning wickedly at the chaos. Many were from the Slytherin table, but there were more than a few Ravenclaws and Gryffindors, even a lone Hufflepuff. All passed their wands over their robes, revealing a death's head pattern in purple all along the fabric.

Raising his arms above his head, Draco shouted. "Cult of the Damned! Arise! Your time is now!"

"No!" Harry screamed, running forward. Impa was half a step behind him. Together they leapt at Draco, only to tumble through him and land on the floor below.

"At last, at long last, you fools will all kneel before me," Draco hissed. He cast off his Hogwarts robes and two of the cultist students hurried forward, placing a robe made of pale leather about his shoulders, and a hat made from the skull of a thestral upon his head.

"Harry, Harry that's human skin," Impa wimpered. "Oh Light, what is happening here? Was… was the Scourge in your world as well?"

"No! No this is all wrong! There was no Scourge on Earth!" Harry shouted, standing and striking at Draco repeatedly with his fists. It was like punching air; no resistance, no indication he was hitting anything at all.

"It took me a long time to figure out how to ensnare all of you," Draco said, walking up to the high table. He grinned wickedly, taking a seat in the empty Headmaster's place. Harry collapsed to the floor, Impa kneeling beside him as they watched in mounting horror.

"But a little agent in the pumpkin juice was all it took," Draco continued. "The spell just required a small catalyst. Something my dear companions were all to willing to provide. They gave their bodies to the cause, and now it is time to reward the faithful. Bring me their corpses!"

The cultists bore over the bodies of Crabb and Goyle, laying them upon the table along with their entrails.

"Hmm, not enough, as fat as they are," Draco muttered. "Fetch me the half giant!"

Four cultists were needed to levitate Hagrid onto the table. His tongue lolled, and Harry could tell the kind caretaker was dead.

"Your damned resistance meant you needed a higher dose than most," Draco said, caressing Hagrid's blotchy purple face. "Begin the ritual!

The cultists joined hands, and Draco screamed out a spell that went on and on, the horror of the profane things he uttered washing over Harry's already numbed mind. He buried his face in Impa's bosom and sobbed, unable to bear seeing his old friend so violated. Slowly, the flesh melted from the three bodies, conjoining into one. The skeletons warped and twisted, becoming a horrific amalgamation. At last, the beast stood, bellowing in rage. It had two heads, with arms sticking out of its body. Its legs were knitted together monstrosities, and its rib cage stood open, exposing putrid organs.

"What me do?" the abomination rumbled. "Me hungry."

"Pick a few Hufflepuffs to eat. Some of the smaller ones," Draco ordered.

"That, that thing is what we slew not two hours past," Impa whimpered. "How...how could it be here? Be real? It...it was just a conjuring!"

Harry looked up, his face streaked with tears. "I refuse to allow this!" he screamed. Holy rage consumed him, and his body was infused with the Light. The song of the Naaru swelled as a burning rune bloomed on Harry's forehead. He shrieked his rage to the heavens as he charged at the abomination as it bent to begin eating a still breathing Hufflepuff student. He struck out with all his might, expecting to pass through harmlessly. Instead, his fist crashed against something, and the space before Harry cracked like glass. He stared in confusion for a moment, then began to strike at the crack in a blind fury.

The vision shattered, and Harry found himself lying on a spidery blue vein of saronite. Beside him, Impa stirred, then stood, her fists crackling with lightning. Before them stood the twisted faceless leader and his shifting minions.

"Get behind me demon!" Harry screamed as he ran forward, slamming his shield into the first faceless one he came to. It flew back in a shower of black ichor as Impa shot lightning into the shifting ranks of madness, causing several faceless ones to blacken and fall.

"Let them go!" Harry howled, charging the giant faceless one. "Let my friends go!"

\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/

A cannon boomed, and Ron jerked awake. He stood on wobbly legs, the floor beneath him rolling back and forth. He looked around, finding himself standing on the deck of an Alliance ship that was in the process of firing its guns at a distant, hazy shore.

"Bloody hell, where am I?" Ron muttered, looking around in confusion.

"Obviously, we're trapped in some sort of mad vision."

Ron whirled to find George walking toward him, the mage's expression grim. "Surely you've seen this before, haven't you?"

Ron nodded, drawing Aesuga. "Aye. So we just have to find the wee mad girl and kill her. Then it will be over."

"Hope you're not talking about me," Fred said, dropping down out of the rigging.

Ron frowned, glancing up. "How in blazes did ye get up there girl?"

"Woke up there," Fred said with a shrug. She looked around, frowning. "Well, we're on some sort of ship, that's for sure. An Alliance Man O'War by the look of her."

Ron looked around, then grunted. He pointed aft. "Well, there's the bloody king. Mayhaps the little bitch is hanging around him."

Fred and George turned and looked where Ron was pointing to: on the poop deck of the ship stood King Varian Wrynn with a contingent of bodyguards. At the helm of the ship was Vanessa Vancleef in a captain's uniform, wrestling with the ships wheel.

"Well that's a good enough place to start," Fred agreed, and began to walk up the length of the ship.

"Don't bother talking to him, we're not really here," Ron called as he hurried after Fred. She turned to glare at him.

"Oh really? Thanks, couldn't have figured that out after you told me we were in a stupid vision. You're a real help."

"Let's just focus on getting back to reality, please," George said with a heavy sigh.

As they made their way to the king, the ship changed course and began to make for the obscured misty shore. As it did so, Vancleef shouted, "We're going to ground on the damned rocks, your majesty! This is a damned fool idea!"

"Just do as your told, Captain," Varian said, not looking at Vancleef, his eyes peering into the mist. "We'll risk the shallows. We have to get to shore and reinforce the pandaren."

"Oh no," Fred gasped, stopping short.

Ron bumped into her, shoving her forward. "Move ye daft girl. We've got to find the little girl and kill her. She's the avatar of the Old God or something."

Fred refused to move, gripping onto the handrails of the steps she was on. "George, George this is the Broken Shore. It has to be. We...we never knew what happened the the Lion's Fleet."

"Oh hell," George muttered. He put a hand on Ron's shoulder. "You're better off not seeing this."

Ron brushed the hand away and shoved Fred away, stalking forward. "Sod off. I've seen these visions before. They're a pack of lies, but we have to find our way out."

However, there was no little girl hiding amongst the soldiers. The ship plunged into the mist, and Ron stopped short, swearing loudly and colorfully.

"Oh shut up," Fred grumbled, coming to stand beside Ron. "I always wanted to find out what happened to him and Vancleef. Aunty always told the best stories about her."

"You really need to shut up. Lucy's going to be pissed at us enough without us ruining her big surprise," George said, taking up a position on Ron's other side.

At the front of the ship, Ripsnarl called soundings, each of which made Vancleef swear even more loudly. Finally, she shouted, "That's close enough your majesty! We have to launch from here! Any closer and we'll ground her!"

"Very well," Varian agreed. "We can-"

From above, there was a bellowing roar. A frost wyrm dove out of the mist, pouncing on the ship and tearing at it with claws and fangs. The impact catapulted Ron into the water, and he gritted his teeth to bear the cold. To his shock, instead of sinking, he hovered over it like he'd cast a water walking spell on himself. He couldn't see anything in the thick mist, and could only listen as the frost wyrm savaged the boat. After a short time, he felt himself tugged forward. He looked around, seeing Fred and George floating along beside him.

"Well this is bloody weird," Ron muttered.

Fred made a rude noise in the darkness. "Thought you were the expert on these mad visions."

"Stuff it," George ordered. "Do you hear splashing?"

The looked down and saw two heads bobbing in the water. After a moment, Ron realized it was Vancleef, swimming through the water and dragging Varian along behind her.

"Damn fool man, wearing full plate on the open sea. You should have drowned!"

Varian only spluttered in reply, and Ron realized he was floating along on pace with her. After a few minutes, Vanessa dragged Varian onto a sandy beach, and Ron flopped down on the sand. He stood slowly, looking around.

"Where are we?" Ron demanded.

"Pandaria," Fred answered at the same time that George growled, "Nowhere."

"No where in Pandaria. Fantastic. Know right where that is," Ron complained.

"Can you stand?" Vanessa demanded of Varian.

The king slowly got to his feet, coughing and spitting water. "I shall live. Come. We must rally the troops."

The king and Vanessa hurried into the mists where the sounds of fighting could be heard, Ron and the mages dragged behind them.

"Bloody odd vision," Ron said. "And long. The others only lasted a few minutes."

"You only last a few minutes," Fred muttered.

George barked a laugh. "Do you even remember who you're talking to?"

Fred blushed, and Ron rolled his eyes. "Bet you're both virgins anyway, less you diddle each other."

He wasn't ready for the twins' fists: Fred hit him in the gut, while George expertly kicked Ron in the jaw. Ron blacked out for a few minutes, and when he came to he spat blood and stood on wobbly legs. "Alright, maybe I deserved that. Sorry."

George glanced at him from where he was sitting cross legged on the ground, and nodded as if he accepted the apology. It was odd watching the mage as he scooted along the ground as if pulled by a rope. Fred for her part was walking. She refused to look at Ron, and muttered some rather profane things under her breath.

"For the record, I've never had a lass neither," Ron admitted as he started forward. "Bit jealous of Harry that way ye know."

"Well that will make mum happy," Fred muttered.

"What did ye say?" Ron demanded.

"I said that will make your mum happy!" Fred snapped. "Now just shut up."

Varian and Vanessa broke into a sudden run, roaring as they charged forward through the mists. A knot of Alliance soldiers had landed in small boats, and were fighting against a large group of minor undead; ghouls, skeletons, and a few abominations made of human corpses. The living were being driven back into the surf, unable to organize in the face of opposition.

"SOLDIERS OF THE ALLIANCE! STAND FAST! YOUR KING FIGHTS WITH YOU!" Varian bellowed, drawing his sword and splitting it into two halves. He ran straight into the thickest group of undead, his twin blades whirling. Vanessa stayed back, firing her gun and shouting at the soldiers.

Upon seeing their king, the troops cheered and rallied, forming up at Vanessa's urging and pushing the undead back. Vanessa fired a single flair into the back of the undead's formation, and a few moments later cannon fire rained down, scattering and driving off the undead. The troops rallied around Varian, who began issuing orders. More soldiers arrived in boats, and soon a beach head had been established.

All the while, Ron and the twins had looked around for signs of Yogg Saron's avatar or other strange things, but any time they attempted to wander off they found themselves pulled back to Varian.

"Well this is bloody well taking forever," Ron grumbled. "Let's get on with this! What the hell is supposed to happen anyway?"

"Nothing good," Fred said, staring wistfully at Varian as he ordered troops to set up a perimeter.

"Aye, ye said something about the Lion's Fleet and Broken Shore. Bloody hell what is that?" Ron demanded.

"Watch," George said, taking a seat on a rock.

Ron paced back and forth, but nothing seemed to be happening. More undead would appear from out of the mists alone or in small groups, but they were cut down easily enough. He walked over to one recently slain zombie and examined it, then knelt, frowning. Though it's clothes were tattered, they had once been trousers and a dark shirt.

"West Ham United FC," Ron read. "I think I recognize that name, but damn me if I can remember where." He looked at more of the bodies, and saw that all were human, and oddly dressed.

Before he could puzzle everything out, a chill filled the air. Ron looked up to see Fred and George standing back to back, looking around with wide eyes. Ron slowly backed over to them, feeling his heart race. All around him, soldiers began shouting, and Varian hurried over to the front lines.

"Stand fast!" Varian shouted. "We shall drive back this Lich, and this new Scourge! The Alliance shall now bow!"

 **ALL SHALL BOW, IF NOT IN LIFE, THAN IN DEATH**

"She's here," Fred whispered, raising her dagger in trembling hands.

"Who's here?" Ron demanded, looking around wildly into the deepening mists.

"Show yourself!" Varian barked, raising his sword. "You shall tremble before the might of the Alliance!"

Out of the mists there came a pattering sound, then a wave of ghouls and zombies burst onto the makeshift barricades. The Alliance soldiers fought back, holding the line and preventing the undead from breaking through their defenses. For a moment Ron thought they would hold, and then the cold intensified.

Snow began to fall, the former warmth of the air all but forgotten. The undead assault continued, but a path of frost opened up as their ranks parted to allow a woman in dark plate to step forward. In her hands she bore a sword that glowed blue with runes, and upon her head rested a crown of twisted bone.

 **ALL SHALL SERVE THE LICH QUEEN!**

Upon seeing his foe, Varian roared and charged forward, several Alliance soldiers at his side. His blade met the Lich Queens, and the two leaders began rapid dance of death. The Lich Queen's motions seemed deceptively slow, but each blow was incredibly powerful with all the king could do to dodge or parry. Varian was faster his assault full of fury, but the icy air began to sap his strength.

"We shall never yield to the Scourge!" Varian panted as he split his sword in two and rained down a flurry of strokes. "We cast down Arthas, the Lich King and shall do the same to you! No king rules forever!"

 **BUT I AM NO KING. AND I CAN DO MORE THAN SWING A SWORD, HUMAN.**

Raising a hand, the Lich Queen conjured up a spear of ice, hurling it at Varian and impaling his arm. He gasped and fell back, dropping one of the swords which vanished as soon as it hit the ground, reforming into the larger blade. Varian raised his sword once more to parry another blow, but this time the Lich Queen struck the sword from the king's hands. He fell to the icy ground, battered and bleeding.

 **YOU SHALL SERVE ME WELL.**

Varian tried to rise, but the Lich Queen drove her blade into his chest. Blue fire burned in Varians eyes, then he slumped to the ground, lifeless. Vanessa Vancleef picked up the king's sword and tried to rally a defense, but the moral of the troops had broken. She ended up bruised and bleeding in a boat with a few other wounded soldiers, trying to flee the battle.

Ron watched in horror as Lich Queen began to raise the fallen Alliance soldiers as undead even as her frost wyrms attacked the few fleeing survivors.

"She never made it back alive," George said, staring out over the water as Vancleef tried to maneuver away from a diving frost wyrm. "Her body and that blade washed up in Booty Bay three weeks later. We always guessed something like this happened, but we never knew."

Ron eyed George, then looked at Fred, who was kneeling at Varian's corpse's side, weeping. "Ye are time travelers. Aren't ye?"

George blanched and looked away for a moment, then looked back, staring into Ron's eyes.. "I shouldn't have said anything. It's just... seeing the two of them, their final moments...it hurts. Almost as much as seeing…"

Looking around at the death and destruction, Ron felt a burning rage ignite within him. "This is a lie. It's no going to happen. I'll not bloody well allow it!"

Flames ignited along Ron's arms, then spread along the ground, burning away at corpses and undead alike. "You hear me, ye damned Dark Gods! I'll not allow this to happen!"

Ron rained down fire and lightning, screaming in rage and anger, determined to end the vision one way or another.

After a short time, new screams joined his as Fred lashed out, spraying fire and flame in random directions. George wept silently as he called down ice and fury. Slowly, their spells merged into one furious storm. Ron found his body picked up and swept away in the terrible conflux of the spell. He banged into the ground and cursed, trying to sit up.

"Let them go! Let my friends go!"

Ron looked up to see Harry and Impa battling the faceless ones and grinned. "Reth, it's time for payback!"

"Reth reth reth!" the fire elemental burst out, and Ron picked up his mace, charging forward with Reth at his side. Behind him, Fred and George stood and began to fire off bolts of ice and balls of flame at the faceless ones. A moment later, Crok and Maraad joined in, hacking and slashing.

 _Gul'kafh an'shel. Yoq'al shn ky ywaq nuul._

With a final maddening whisper, the last of the faceless fell in a puddle of ichor. Ron stood panting in the growing black puddle, looking around, his eyes wide.

"Where's Kilix? I'll bloody well kill him!"

But the nerubian was nowhere to be found. And as Ron looked around the chamber, his heart sank: there were dozens of tunnels leading away, and for the life of him, Ron could not recall the one they had come from.

 _Authors Note:_

 _I'm still not totally happy with the visions in this chapter, but I feel like if I spend any more time agonizing over this we'll never get anywhere. Hopefully they made a few things clearer, and showed just what Harry and friends are really up against._


	38. Through Darkness and Death V

The party gathered at the edge of the chamber, away from the rapidly rotting corpses of the faceless.

"We have to get out of here, now," Ron panted, looking around with a glint of madness in his eyes. "I can't take another of those visions."

"Agreed, but which way do we go?" Harry wondered, looking at the various tunnels. "Does anyone recall which we came through?"

While everyone else hesitated, Crok stepped forward, looking into each tunnel. "This one," he finally said. The others quickly followed after Crok as he lead them rapidly down the hall.

"How did you know which path to take?" Maraad asked the Death Knight.

"I didn't," Crok answered, continuing his relentless pace forward.

Fred and George stopped, looking back behind them. "Well then how do you know we didn't take the wrong way?" Fred demanded.

Crok didn't turn, but called back, "Do you have a method to discern the proper path, mage? If not, then one path is as good as another."

"Damn you," Fred muttered, and started walking again. George hesitated for a moment longer, then hurried to keep up.

After half an hour of walking at a steady pace, Maraad called a halt, and the party sank gratefully to the stone floor. The veins of saronite were still everywhere, but the stone was no longer dressed, but only roughly cut and carved out. The party slumped on rough slabs or sat on the floor, leaing against the wall. Impa and Harry sat together, holding hands and taking quick sips of water and eating some dried fruit and nuts from their rations.

"Harry, what we saw," Impa said quietly, though in the dead silence of the passage she may as well have shouted, "what we saw...your former school mates sacrificing themselves and declaring allegiance to the Scourge...what can it mean?"

"I don't know," Harry said, closing his eyes and leaning back, his armor clinking softly as he shifted. "But it can't be real. There's no Scourge on Earth, and there is no way Hagrid could be turned into an abomination with Crabbe and Goyle. Even with that conjuration, we saw, I don't think-"

"They did no turn back to sand," Ron said, interrupting Harry.

All eyes turned to Ron, who was tracing a finger along a vein of saronite in the floor absently. "Before, the monster Aeonus summoned, it turned to sand when it died. Those ones...those ones stayed there. And… and if ye saw Hagrid get turned into an undead...but the ones that I saw with Fred and George...we saw Varian killed by a Lich Queen."

"A Lich Queen?" Crok asked, looking up. "You also saw a woman, like Arthas?" For once the Death Knight sounded shaken.

Ron shook his head. "This one did no look like Arthas. Truth be told, she reminded me o' someone I've seen before, but I could no place it."

"We also saw a Lich Queen, Crok and I," Maraad said, staring into the crystal of his warhammer. "And myself, a dark, twisted version of me. I was a Death Knight, and I helped to destroy Shattrath, and slaughter her people. In the end, I knelt before this Lich Queen, along with hundreds of other Death Knights. And then the vision ended."

"Troubling visions," George said. "A dark future. One where the Scourge seems to rule three worlds: Azeroth, Draenor, and this Earth."

Fred looked up at her brother in shock, but he continued on. "Our need for Quel'Delar grows ever greater, as well as the importance of mine and my sister's mission to prevent the Infinite Dragonflight from guiding this world towards those events."

"That is your only purpose?" Crok demanded.

"What else could it be?" George said, shrugging as if the answer were obvious. "We are but mages of the Kirin Tor, chosen by the Bronze Dragonflight to act as their agents."

"Yeah, that's right. We were...a group of adventurers," Fred explained. "Our leader was um, Llane. Llane lead us to the Caverns of time in search of a way to save loved ones from a tragedy. We...we all had reasons to want to meddle in time, to try to save our families and friends."

"And when did Llane do this leading, exactly?" Maraad demanded. "You seem to have strange knowledge of the future."

"Around twenty years from now, by my guess," Impa said. "It is twenty, is it not?"

Fred looked to her brother, who shifted uncomfortably. The fire mage shrugged. "Can't tell you that exactly, but yes, we've done a bit of time traveling. Mostly unintentionally, but some of it with the help of Chromie. We're tasked now with keeping the Infinite Dragonflight from interfering in events. And, well, we've done a bit of interfering of our own."

"Did ye save yer family?" Ron demanded. "Who are they?"

George narrowed his eyes at Ron while Fred blushed and looked away. "Not yet. But we're trying. Hopefully, they'll never even know they're in danger."

"That danger, does it come from this Lich Queen of Earth?" Harry asked. "Did she...did Draco really kill Hagrid and raise him as an undead? Is Voldemort really a lich like Ron saw?"

"That's not really a question we can answer," George said, standing. "And we've rested long enough. Just know we're on your side, and we'll do everything in our power to help you defeat the Scourge. No matter which one we're talking about."

The party continued on in silence, brooding on the dark things they had witnessed. The marched for an hour, the tunnel steadily leading up and a slight incline. They stopped once more to rest in a chamber that seemed made for the purpose, though they could not reach the alcoves above them. Harry and Impa fell asleep clinging to one another, trying to find home in one anothers embrace.

After about six hours, they rose and ate a quick meal of hard tack and dried meat. They had consumed half their rations, but they were now out of water. Ron and Impa tried summoning a water elemental, but it was tainted by saronite. Thankfully George's bubbly spirit was able to provide them with drinking water when called.

"We press on," Crok declared, marching forward. "One way or another, we will find our way out of this maze."

After two hours of walking, Ron suddenly called a halt. Telling everyone to be silent, he pressed his ear to the rock wall listening. After a few moments, he stood and nodded. "Hammers and picks. The sound can travel for miles through the rock. But someone's digging nearbye."

Their hope restored, the party hurried down the passage for two miles, until Harry and Maraad jerked to a stop. "Undead, up ahead. Hundreds of them."

"Wait here," Crok ordered. "I shall scout ahead."

The party shifted restlessly as they waited, but after half an hour Crok returned. "Come. The Scourge are mining up ahead. They have living slaves mixed among their undead thralls, however. Put these on: I took some rags off a few slave corpses that had not been raised yet. If you follow after me, you shall appear to be my prisoners. They have other death knights acting as mining formen."

"Why do the Scourge have living slaves?" Ron asked in puzzlement as he eyed the flea bitten rag Crok had tossed them.

"Undead do not reproduce," Crok said simply. "They need living slaves for that. They breed them, and work them to death. When the slaves die, the Scourge simply raise them as thralls. Their existences are short, and miserable, but they usually last long enough to welp."

"That's horrible!" Harry gasped, pausing in the act of adjusting his own rags. "We have to free them!"

"You could never get those miserable creatures out before the Scourge realized you were here and slew you and them," Crok stated. "You can free them best by slaying Arthas with this holy blade you seek."

Harry didn't like that advice, but grudgingly trudged along after Crok. Soon, he could hear the sounds of a mining operation, and suddenly they came out into the bottom of a pit so deep that the sky was a mere pinprick above their heads. All around them labored living slaves and undead thralls in the form of skeletons or ghouls. The living slaves didn't look up from their work, listlistly banging their pickaxes as Crok led the group into the mine.

"What were these slaves doing back there?" an undead vrykul demanded, coming over carrying a whip and axe.

"They attempted to flee, but the bound god's servants frightened them, and they returned," Crok growled. "I'm taking them up top to make an example of a few of them. Perhaps I shall allow some to live, once they've made the crucifixes for me."

"Ha! Sounds like Yogg Saron is good for more than bleeding, for once," the vrykul laughed. He nodded. "Very well, Death Knight. Make sure you tell Prince Keleseth of this. Perhaps he will enjoy one of them as a snack."

With that, the vrykul wandered away, cracking his whip at various living slaves.

"Come along," Crok snapped. "Or I'll rip your guts out right here! I could use a treat."

Harry's heart sank as he walked past the slaves, who one and all looked away from him, afraid they too would find themselves the subjects of their master's ire.

"These poor wretches," Impa murmured. "We have to find a way to free them, Harry."

Harry nodded grimly. "Once we have Quel'delar, we can return and free them all. I hate to say it, but Crok was right. We would only get ourselves captured if we tried something now."

Crok led the party to an elevator shaft used for hauling up ore, and herded them onto a platform. "Up! I've slaves who attempted to flee. The Blood Prince will have fresh blood for supper today!"

The elevator slowly began to rise, and Harry blanched as they rose up. He could sense more and more undead, some of them weak, others powerful.

"How the bloody hell are we getting out of here?" Ron muttered.

"Be silent. Follow me, and I'll lead you right out their front doorstep. We are near Icecrown Citadel itself. It is far from Illidan's doom, but I know this place. I can take us there in only a few days time," Crok said.

"This whole place is crawling with undead! How are we going to do that?" Ron demanded.

"Shut up moron," Fred hissed. "If things get too dangerous, we'll just make portals for us all to flee. Besides, I think this is actually a good thing for us. This is the Pit of Saron, is it not?"

"Indeed," Crok said, eyeing Fred. "But why would that be good?"

"Let's just say I think we might be closer to Quel'Delar than you might think," Fred said, winking at Harry.

The elevator came to a halt at last, and Crok lead the group forward.

"The Prince is in the Halls of Reflection," one of the vrykul slave masters called. "He just returned from Illidan's Doom. You're in luck; he seemed to be in a good mood. Perhaps we won't drain all these fleshlings."

"Illidan's doom?" Crok asked, turning slowly. "Did he find the blade?"

The vrykul shrugged. "How should I know? The Prince isn't going to tell a low life like me what he's found, and he's not likely to talk to one of you Death Knights either, not since you fell out of favor with the master after Mograin's betrayal. But between you and me, I think it likely. He'll just have to hope Lana'thel doesn't find out he's been plotting behind her back, piecing together her old blade."

"Hmph. Very well." Crok turned and led the group away. Harry could barely contain his excitement, looking back over his shoulder.

"Quel'delar! It's here!" he whispered excitedly. "The Naaru have guided us along the right path!"

Crok grunted. "Funny."

"What's funny?" Fred asked.

"Didn't think I looked much like a wind chime," Crok replied.

"Did you...did you just make a joke?" Impa asked slowly.

"Be silent. We are close. This is the dangerous part. Unlike Taldaram, this is the seat of Scourge power. Arthas is near. A wrong step could doom us all."

They made their way up from the mining pit towards a towering citadel above them. Carved all of black stone and mortared with bones, it was the seat of the Scourge, Icecrown Citadel. It's spiked towers were topped with ice, and gargoyles and frost wyrms circled it in wide lazy arcs. The entire fortress was massive, built around the tallest peak of Icecrown glacier, its highest point lost amidst a haze of clouds.

"Here lie the Halls of Reflection," Crok said quietly as they made their way up a winding staircase carved of stone and ice. "Here lie the sins of the Lich King's past. Be ready to fight at any moment."

At the top stood skeletal giants, standing motionless and gripping weapons in icy grasps. As they approach, one came to life and barred their way.

"Hault. Why do fleshlings seek to enter these halls?'

"A treat for the Blood Prince," Crok declared. "And a gift. They found something within the mines: a hilt. Perhaps it is what Keleseth seeks."

"Mmmm." The giant's glowing blue eyes swept the party, then it returned to its station. "Enter."

Crok let the way forward through the black gate that swung open as they approached.

As they entered, Impa let out a soft gasp. "It's beautiful. The ice... they're like mirrors."

Indeed, the hall was filled with pure translucent blue ice that seemed to endlessly reflect those that walked down it, the parties ghostly images going on forever.

Crok shook his head. "Look closer. There is no beauty in what the Scourge makes."

Harry stepped closer, and Impa made a gagging noise. He could see why: The reflections were not the true image, but haggard skeletons with glowing blue eyes and icons of the Scourge on their armor.

"The ice reflects a world in the image of its master: Arthas would see the whole world dead," Crok growled. "Come, quickly. It is best not to linger here."

"There are spirits in this place," Ron muttered as they carefully made their way forward. "Tortured souls bound to serve. Once, they were like us. Those who fought for the Light, and Justice."

"Arthas was a paladin once," Harry said, glancing at his skeletal ghost in the ice. "He gave up his soul for power."

"Do not forget, he asked for power to save his people from the Burning Legion," Crok said. "He was given that power. But he saved only a ghost."

A short distance head, they heard voices, distorted by their echoes in the halls. The party drew weapons and edged forward. "There are powerful undead ahead," Harry whispered. "A san'layn, and something else. Something even greater."

They came to a corner and halted, listening around the bend.

"-forbidden! Did you three truly think you could keep this hidden?"

"My queen, I-ack! I...I only sought...sought to prevent the others from-"

Harry peaked around the corner to see a blackened and stained blade hovering in the air above two figures. One was a Blood Prince, probably Keleseth, who was groveling on the floor before a much larger san'layn. The larger was female, had a crown of thorns upon her head, and large bat like wings.

"Keleseth, do not lie to me," the woman crooned. "I can see within your heart, your very soul. You three were never content to be my foremost lieutenants. You sought to become the Blood Queen, to usurp me. That, I cannot allow. You think by restoring Quel'Delar and turning it to the shadow, you can overthrow me? That is folly."

"No, I did not, I merely-"

Lana'thel struck like lightning, flashing across the space between her and the prince in an instant. She struck out with long talons, sending Keleseth crashing across the room. "Keleseth, it seems I shall have to reform the Blood Prince council. Your two brothers are already dead, and as for you…"

As Lana'thel spoke, she slowly advanced on the fallen Prince, who tried desperately to scramble away from the queen. As she walked, her fangs grow longer, and her body lengthened and became more bestial as she loomed over the prince. She bent down as if to bite him, then suddenly paused, straightening.

"We are not alone. Stand up, fool. It seems someone else has caught wind of your scemes. As for you, mortals, come out! I can smell your blood, and sense the hilt you bear. Show yourselves!"

Slowly, Harry and the others walked out into the open, advancing with bared blades. Keleseth struggled to his feet, stepping to the side of his queen, and slightly before her. His face was still marred with a long crimson cut, but he seemed ready now to fight and die for her.

"We have come for the sword, Lana'thel. Give it over, and perhaps we shall let you live when we carve Arthas' frozen heart from his chest," Crok growled.

"Ah, heroes, here to destroy the Scourge, and save the world," Lana'thel said, smiling with predatory intent. "I was like you, once. Bearing a noble blade, and set upon saving my people. Now, however, I find myself on the other end of that conflict. The Lich King will be most pleased indeed to have one of his stray servants returned to him. Your screams shall echo in these halls for weeks, death knight."

"No talk, no bargins!" George snarled. He raised his hand, conjuring up a massive sphere of ice, then hurled it towards the blood queen.

"Fool, we are the masters of ice here," Keleseth hissed, stopping the frost orb with an upraised hand. No sooner had it touched his palm however then it exploded in a fiery blaze, causing Keleseth to wail in pain.

"Careful there," Fred purred. "It's got a special surprise inside."

Lana'thel lunged forward with blazing speed again, but Harry stepped forward to meet her. She swipped at his shield and attempted to bite Harry, but he called forth a barrier of Light to deflect the fangs, then stabbed with his sword. Lana'thel danced away, only for Maraad to step in, using his warhammer to chanenel a wave of Light at the Blood Queen. The Light made Lana'thel hiss in pain, but she pressed through the attack, taking a blow from Maraad's warhammer on her arm and grabbing Maraad with her free hand. She pulled the vindicator in close, her fangs sinking in to his flesh.

"Back!" Impa snarled, hurling a bolt of lightning at Lana'thel. In a blink of an eye, Keleseth interposed himself between the electricity and his queen. The Blood Prince was already badly burned by mage fire, and he snarled in pain as Impa's attack coursed through him. However, he succeeded in allowing Lana'thel to secure her hold on Maraad, continuing to drain his blood as the Vindicator struggled against her, lashing out with fists, hooves, and the Light, but to no avail.

As the Blood Prince reeled from the lightning, Harry closed in, imbuing his shield with the Light and slamming it into the prince. The san'layn fell to the ground, blackened skin cracked and bleeding. Pressing forward, Harry leaped on top of the vampyr, roaring in righteous fury as his sword glowed with power. He plunged the blade into the Blood Prince. The san'layn's talons scrambled against Harry's armor for a moment, the prince's fangs growing as he leaned towards Harry's neck, trying to drink his blood. Harry slammed his shield into the vampyre's face again and again, until the fangs broke, and the eyes dimmed.

While Harry was dealing with Keleseth, Crok charged in and slammed his shoulder into Lana'thel, knocking her away from Maraad. Ron and the mages hurled spells at the blood queen, but she dodged away, taking to the air to find a new vantage to swoop down from.

"Reth, shield us!" Ron roared, raising his wooden totem. His fire elemental roared forth, growing in size until it was 10 feet tall, interposing itself between Lana'thel and the party.

"Harry, the sword!" Impa shouted as she ran to Maraad's side. The Vindicator was a chalky blue now, nearly exsanguinated from the blood queen's attack.

Looking up from the corpse of Keleseth, Harry spied the blade floating in midair off to the side, and sheathed his sword and shield. He ran forward, tensing his legs in preparation to spring into the air. Lana'thel let out a shriek and dived at Harry, only to be driven off by a hail of spells from Ron and the mages.

"Wingardium Leviosa!" George shouted. A strange feeling of weightlessness came over Harry, and he lept into the air, soaring up 10 feet and snatching the broken sword blade out of the sky.

"NO! IT IS MINE! QUEL'DELAR IS MINE!" Lana'thel shrieked. She dove through flame and ice, claws outstretched as her eyes glowed with bright red malevolence.

With only the broken blade in his hands as he floated, Harry stretched it form. He felt a small spark of Light within the blade, and desperately let the Song of the Naaru flow through him and into the twisted metal. Suddenly a blinding yellow blaze filled the room, and all Harry could see was his shining sword. Lana'thel let out a scream and turned away, crashing into the ground. Harry slowly floated down, grasping the remains of Quel'delar in both hands.

"No! No, I destroyed it, corrupted the blade beyond all repair!" Lana'thel hissed, crouching away from Harry against a cracked wall of ice.

A growing sense of joy and peace filled Harry, despite his wounds and the strain of battle. Weariness fell away like an old burden, and his body felt stronger than ever before. He saw Crok shielding his eyes and edging away from the blinding Light, and Maraad suddenly stand and grasp his warhammer, his strength restored.

The Song of the Naaru filled Harry's mind, and he allowed himself to be swept away.

"You were once a warrior of Light, Lana'thel. You were blinded by anger and rage, driven not by justice, but by revenge. You no longer sought retribution, but the pain and suffering of your foes. Repent! Give up your anger, your hate, your hunger and pride. Quel'delar still knows you. Seek forgiveness, and it shall be given," Harry said, taking the blade in one hand and offering an open palm to the Blood Queen.

For a moment, a look of deep longing and remorse came over Lana'thel. She stretched out her hand halfway to Harry's, tears forming in her eyes. Then she grimaced and looked away from the Light for a moment, and when she looked back all the old hunger and hatred had returned.

"I am my pain and hunger now. I will make Quel'Delar serve me. With it, I could be Arthas' queen, ruler over all, servant to none!"

Harry bowed his head, a sense of deep sadness permeating his being. "Please, do not turn away!"

The Blood Queen did not respond, instead striking out at Harry, going for his throat as she had with Maraad. Harry brought up Quel'delar, his hand guided by the Song. Lana'thel's head rested on his shoulder as the san'layn let out a small gasp.

"I am sorry," Harry whispered, gently withdrawing the broken blade from the Blood Queen's heart. He lay her down on the icy stone as she shuddered and choked upon her own blood. "May you find rest and peace in the embrace of the Light."

Lana'thel's eyes slowly dimmed as she went still, a gurgling death rattle escaping her throat. The Light emanating from Quel'delar dimmed and faded, until it was simply a piece of blackened metal once more.

"May the Naaru watch over your spirit," Harry said, reaching out and slowly closing Lana'thel's eyes. Tears filled his eyes, and Harry silently wept as he stood before the body of his foe.

Impa came over to stand beside Harry, putting a hand on his shoulder. "She was a monster, an abomination. It is well you ended her."

"Once, she was a champion of the Light," Harry whispered. "She fell to pride and hatred, and the Lich King tortured her into the evil we saw. We can only pray that she is at rest now."

"I think she is, Harry," Maraad said, coming over to stand beside his pupil. Maraard smiled down at Harry and Impa, nodding to himself. "You have grown much since you came to us nearly four years ago. You shall be a fitting wielder of the High Blade. It shall be a good end for Lana'thel's tale."

 **A TOUCHING STORY. BUT HERE, IN MY REALM, ALL STORIES END ONLY IN DEATH AND SERVITUDE TO MY THRONE.**

Behind the party the door swung open and a bone deep chill filled them. Harry whirled to see the Lich King himself sweep into the room, his boots clanking on the ice as his dark mantle swept behind him.

 **YOU THINK YOU CAN ENTER INTO MY REALM UNINVITED, NOT PAY YOUR DUE? YOUR HAVE INCURRED A GREAT DEBT, WIELDING THE LIGHT IN THESE PROFANED HALLS. I SHALL HAVE MY PRICE: ALL OF YOU WILL BECOME MY CHAMPIONS, AND SPREAD THE GOSPEL OF UNDEATH TO ALL CORNERS OF AZEROTH.**

"Run!" Maraad shouted, and as one the party turned and fled through the door on the other side, the Lich King advancing at an unhurried pace behind them.

Crok and Maraad slammed the door shut and barred it, Maraad casting several binding spells upon the door.

"Mages, portals, now!" Crok barked.

"It's going to take a little while!" Fred said in a panicked voice. "Portals are a complicated ritual!"

The door shuddered with a heavy impact, and Maraad gripped his warhammer. "Go, all of you. I shall buy you time to open a portal away from here."

The door shuddered again, the metal cracking as it froze solid.

"No." Crok grabbed Maraad and shoved him away. "I will not have you share my fate, paladin. I chose to become a Death Knight, to serve Ner'zhul of my own will. I am already damned. You, however, are not. Take these champions and the sword far from here."

"No, I will not abandon anyone to-" Maraad began.

Crok punched the vindicator in the gut, then threw him bodily at Ron. "Drag him from here if you must, but go. I cannot give you more than a minute or two."

Maraad reluctantly followed the party down the frozen halls. Harry glanced behind them, watching as Arthas struck down the door and walked through, an army of undead behind him.

 **YOU HAVE STRAYED FAR, MY FORMER SERVANT. DO YOU THINK TO WITHSTAND ME NOW, TO CLAIM MY CROWN FOR YOUR OWN?**

"Those fleshlings claim that even one such as Lana'thel can be redeemed still," Crok growled, raising his axe. "I don't hold out much hope for myself, but I will press on until the end. So come, Arthas. Come and see if your old dog still has a bite!"

Harry didn't see what happened next as they fled through a door out onto the glacier, but he heard the laughter of the Lich King behind them.

They ran out onto the ice, Harry and Maraad turning to close and bar the door behind them with several powerful barriers.

"One portal, coming up!" Fred shouted. She and her brother began to chant, arms outstretched toward a point between them. The air rippled, and a sphere grew between them, showing a ruined city in the dessert.

"It is open!" George gasped. "Quickly! We cannot maintain the spell for long!"

Harry ran as the door behind him reverberated with a sudden blow, the spells upon it rapidly failing. Ron and Impa dove through the portal, and Harry and Maraad jumped as the door behind them burst. He fell onto hot sand, his armor suddenly steaming as the ice that had been on it rapidly melted. The twins landed behind them, and the portal closed as Arthas advanced on them.

"That was too close," Harry groaned, standing slowly and shielding his eyes.

There was a mighty roar, and the air around him suddenly swirled as a sand storm arose.

"MORTALS! YOU SHALL DIE FOR TRESPASSING HERE!"


	39. The Birth of Time

Staggering to his feet in the sand, harry threw Fred and George off and tried to draw his sword. He had just gained his feet when a blue blur crashed into him, sending Harry flying. Before he could rise once more, a powerful foot leaned on his chest, and an icy breath breathed on his face.

"THE PENALTY FOR TRESPASSING IN THE CAVERNS IS DEATH, MORTAL! MAKE PEACE WITH YOUR GODS!"

Dazed, Harry looked up at the open maw of a giant blue dragon descending towards him. Desperately Harry reached out for the Light, but the shield he summoned was a thin, flickering thing that the dragon began to crush with it's jaws. Slowly, the shield shrank, the teeth coming closer and closer.

"Narygos!" George shouted. "Bloody hell what in the name of magic is wrong with you? That's Harry Bloody Potter you're about to eat!"

Fred on the other hand, was far more direct, and a fireball impacted on the side of the dragon's head. Harry heard his companions shouting, but to his surprise the dragon back stepped, flapping its wings slightly.

"The twins? You're back? But you have brought other mortals! This is forbidden! I...I cannot allow anyone to trespass within the Caverns!"

Impa rushed to Harry's side, dragging him backwards and healing his wounds. Harry stood with her help, raising the broken blade of Quel'Delar as if to ward off the blue dragon. The beast was a fully grown adult, 80 feet long from snout to tail tip, and standing as tall as a house. It looked oddly out of place in the desert however, the cobalt of its scales standing out starkly against the shifting sand dunes and brown rocks that filled the canyon they were in.

"Just back off you big blue lizard," Fred called. "Look, we just escaped from Arthas Bloody Menathil himself. We were a bit pressed for time, and the Cavern's were the portal spell we could perform the fastest. We'll just take a quick breather, then be on our way."

The blue dragon reared up, peering down at the group with an almost concerned expression, eyes darting back and forth as his tail swished recklessly. Before the dragon could speak however, a crow landed on a nearby rock and cocked it's head at the party.

"Oh you've done it now," the crow cackled. "Lucy and Chromie are going to be pissed at the two of you! You really brought the three of them here? Who's the big draenei, is that Maraad?"

"I am," Maraad said, frowning at the giggling bird. "What is this place, and what are you? Are you some sort of shape shifter?"

"Jasyn, don't you bloody dare," Fred hissed. "Look, we just need to calm down Nary here and then we'll-"

The blue dragon suddenly crashed forward, his head low so that his eyes were even with the party. Harry flinched and stepped back as the dragon spoke. "I cannot allow you to simply depart! This location and its secrets must remain hidden, even if this is Harry Potter. This is a critical time, the eggs-"

"Oh come on, they don't even know where they are right now!" Fred said in exasperation. "Come on Nary, you know it's us! We'll just portal this lot back to Dalaran and you don't have have to tell the others."

"I will," Jasyn the raven croaked. "It's about time you two were reeled in. You've even got Ronald Weasley with you. You're far to reckless and you know it!"

"Says the bird that wanted to off Granger," George snapped, pointing his staff at the crow. "I've half a mind to turn you into a snake and leave you that way!"

The crow suddenly turned into a short night elf with pinkish skin and muddy green hair. "Go ahead," Jasyn growled, folding his arms over his chest. "You know it won't last on me. You can try freezing me into a block of ice, but then try explaining that to the others."

"Alright, hold up one bloody moment, what in the name o' Ranaros' flaming arse is going on here?" Ron demanded, glancing back and forth between Jasyn and Nalygos, who was slowly creeping towards the party. "Yer that damned elf that Ginny was talkin' about, and that tried to kill Hermione. Understandable, that, but still mate, piss off. And you, dragon, bloody hell mate, what's wrong with ye? Sorry we burst into yer cavern the the middle o' the bloody desert but I thought ye were no longer mad as hatters and tryin' to murder all us mortals."

"I am not mad!" Nalygos growled, his head jerking back several feet. "I stood with you mortals in the war, against my own father! It is just, well, now is a delicate time, and not one you mortals may interfere in!"

"Well then we'll just be off then," Ron said, nodding to the dragon. He gestured at Fred and George. "You two, make the portal and let's go. I've no wish to become a dragon's snack nor argue with wee elves."'

Jasyn sprang past Fred and George, sticking his nose right in Ron's face. "What did you call me? Rich, coming from a human that thinks he's a damned dwarf! I'm only 29, and I'll be a damned site taller than you, Weasley!"

"Oh, hit a weak spot did I?" Ron said, grinning at the elf and refusing to back down. "I do no think I'm a dwarf, but I do know I'm a Wildhammer, and Wildhammers do not take shit from knife ears, I ought to-"

"Silence, both of you!" Nalygos roared, flapping his wings so that a dust storm suddenly kicked up. "I shall imprison you all until such a time as the Aspect decides what to do with you!"

"Ron, shut up!" Harry shouted, putting away the broken blade and drawing his sword and shield. "In case you hadn't noticed we still have a very angry dragon to deal with!"

"You shall not imprison us!" Impa declared, the air crackling with thunder as her eyes glowed. "The Crusade has need of our burden, and we shall not be swayed from our task!"

"Then you shall perish!" Nalygos roared, raising a claw to strike.

"ENOUGH! All of you, stand down!"

Everyone, even the dragon, paused, turning slightly to see the new commer. Out of a great cave at the back of the canyon stalked a young woman in a simple brown woolen robe, her blue eyes blazing as her loose red hair whipped behind her. About her neck on a cord was a black geometric stone that seemed to suck in the light, which she hastily tucked back in her robe. She looked similar enough to Fred to be her sister, though he nose was far more pointed and she stood rather taller.

"Nalygos, go, Chromie has need of you now," the woman ordered.

The dragon hesitated, glancing at Harry and his group. "But these mortals, I cannot-"

"Go, the time has come," the woman stated, pointing behind her. "She has need of your aide. Midna and Rosalind are with her now, but they are not enough."

Nalygos immediately looked panicked, and began to beat his wings furious. "Oh! Oh! I shall-my love, my Aspect, I come!" With a sudden pop, the dragon vanished in a flare of blue light.

"Great. Well, we'll just be going then," Fred said nervously. "Thanks for the help, don't know when we'll be back but-" the mage cut off as the woman continued to stalk forward, swallowing nervously. She elbowed her brother frantically. "Come on! The portal! Before she-"

"No. We made our choice, now we pay the price," George said evenly. He grabbed Jasyn, who was still in a staring contest with Ron, and jerked the night elf away. "You can say I told you so later, but kindly leave off Mr. Weasley. He has nothing to do with the chip on your shoulder."

Jasyn growled, but a glance at the advancing woman made him grin wickedly. "I'll let her decide your fate."

"Piss off you overgrown pussy," Fred snapped.

"Just what, exactly, is going on?" Maraad asked, looking back and forth between the for strange youths. "Is Midna here as well? Perhaps we should speak with her before we go on to reforge Quel'Delar."

"Is that what you were up to, then?" the woman demanded, coming to a stop before Fred and George. Fred flinched and looked away, biting her lip, but George nodded silently. The woman sighed. "We shall talk later." Turning to Harry and the others, she bowed formally. "Forgive the rude welcome. It seems my cousins' spells have gone awry and brought you where you should not be. Ordinarily I would send you on your way at once, but it seems fate has dealt us an odd hand today."

Harry returned the bow slowly. "I am Vindicator Harry Potter of the Exodar. This is my wife, Impa, my commander Vindicator Maraad, and my friend and boon companion Ronald Weasley. We are weary from battle, and have traveled far, but we shall aid the friends of Fred and George of the Kirin Tor however we may."

"What he means to say is, we're tired, hungry, and this heat is givin' us a powerful thirst," Ron broke in. "So before ye go askin' any favors o' us, mayhaps we can get out of this heat and find a pint o' something to drink? Fightin' the whole bloody Scourge gives a man an appetite."

The woman turned to Ron, raising an eyebrow as her upper lip twitched toward a smile. "Of course, master shaman. Please, this way. The Caverns have plenty of supplies. Are any of you wounded?"

"We are hale," Maraad answered. "Though one of our number, Crok Scourgebane, was slain by Arthas. Our trials have been great, and we are much wearied. Rest and provisions would be much welcome."

"Of course. Jasyn fetch food and water and meet us in the Chamber of Sands. Fred, George, remain here. Keep watch. Should any intruders approach, sound the alarm."

"What, we don't get any rest or food?" Fred demanded. "We fought the bloody lich king too, and saved Ron and Harry and Impa from death or worse."

"Make your own. I know you are capable of getting that much magic right," the woman said. She turned and started back into the caverns as Jasyn shifted back to a crow and flew ahead of them.

"Forgive me, but we have not your name," Impa said as they walked across the sands of the canyon. To either side of them lay ruins and shattered stone, and sandstone canyon walls that rose fifty feet into the air.

"No, you do not," the woman said, not turning back around as she marched forward. He pace was swift and military, her legs snapping out as though she were marching in parade despite the uneven sand beneath her feet.

"Oh isn't it bloody obvious?" Ron said. "This is Lucy, the woman Fred and George were on about. Have to say, she's got a nice arse. Probably a decent rack under that robe too."

Harry looked at Ron aghast, but the fool was grinning widely. The woman stiffened, then whirled, glaring angrily at Ron. Her open palm swung up to slap him across the face, but Ron caught it easily, still grinning like an idiot.

"Ah, got a bit o' fire in yeh. I like that in a lass. If we are fated to marry, mayhaps we should try findin' out after we've had that pint."

"I am going to kill them," Lucy panted, her wide eyes staring into Ron's. "Those damned stupid fools. I am going to kill them. Is this their idea of some sort of prank? Telling you you're supposed to marry me?"

"Nah, worked that out for meself," Ron said easily. "Have to say, you're not a bad lookin' woman. Plenty o' muscle too. Actually having to work to keep yer arm in me grip. Ye ever work at a forge lass?"

"Maybe," Lucy said, suddenly relaxing. "Come closer, I think maybe we should get to know each other better."

Ron's grinned widened, and he leaned in for a kiss. That was when Lucy's knee shot up, ramming into his crotch. When Ron gasped and released her arm, she slammed one fist into his gut, then cracked him over the head with the other. Ron collapsed to the ground, groaning, and Lucy put her foot on top of his head. "It's not happening. Ever. If you touch me, look at me, or Light help you, try ANYTHING on me ever again, I will cut your balls off and feed them to you one at a time. Do you understand?"

Not waiting for a reply, Lucy bowed slightly to Harry and Impa, who were gaping at her with wide eyes. "Your pardon, that was unseemly. Please, this way. Refreshments will be waiting."

Harry and Impa slowly started forward, looking back at Ron and unsure what to do. He was still curled up in a ball groaning, but Harry personally felt he'd somewhat deserved that treatment.

"Go on, I shall have a talk with our young friend," Maraad said. Harry nodded, turning and continuing after Lucy into the shadow of the large cavern.

"Did you see that," Ron wheezed as Maraad helped him up and performed a minor healing spell upon the shaman. "What a woman! Strong and fierce! And that hair, wonderful red color!"

"Hmmm," Maraad said, dusting Ron off and setting him on his feet. "Your advances seemed somewhat unwelcome. Perhaps it would be best if kept your distance."

"Oh no, that' no how a Weasley does it," Ron laughed, steadying himself on Maraad's arm as he hobbled forward. "I can see it now. That lass and I are fated to be together. What a temper! Reminds me o' stories me da used to tell about ma. And what dad used to say about mum too. Us Weasley men, we like them fierce we do."

"Light save us," Maraad groaned.

"I'll have to work her up to it," Ron mused. "But if Harry could sweet talk Impa into his bed, how hard can it be?"

"You do realize that it Impa was the first to realize she was falling in love, yes?" Maraad said, letting Ron go.

Ron waved his hand to dismiss the notion. "Oh I'll talk her around. She's yet to see me own muscles. Here, help me get me tunic off. She can see me scars, the woman love scars they do."

Maraad roughly cuffed Ron up the backside of his head, sending the boy sprawling.

"What the bloody hell was that for?" Ron demanded, spitting out sand as he floundered on the ground.

"You are being foolish," Maraad said, standing back and leaning on his warhammer. "This happens to a young man, from time to time. He believes himself to be too wonderful for women to resist, when in reality he is being nothing but boorish and rude. Usually, young men grow out of such things. Occasionally, it is necessary that such folly is beaten out of them. Which are you, I wonder?"

Ron sized up the giant vindicator, who overtopped him by at least two feet. "Alright, alright, I'll leave the lass alone. Was just bloody foolin' anyway. I'm not perverted."

"See that you do," Maraad said, shouldering his weapon and striding forward. "We must be respectful of our hosts."

Muttering under his breath, Ron hurried after Harry, and especially Lucy.

As they descended into the cavern, more buildings could be seen, but these seemed oddly out of place. There was a watchtower that looked as though it belonged in human lands sticking out of the stone, then a little further on an orc hut could be see. Harry looked up and blinked in confusion, as he could see into the night sky, though it had been daylight outside only minutes before.

"The Caverns of Time hold many strange things," Lucy told them. "Pay them no heed. Lately, the timestream has somewhat been in flux."

"Lass if yer leadin' us into a nest o' the Old Gods I'll have to tell ye to kindly piss off," Ron snapped, jerking to a halt and drawing his weapon.

Lucy looked behind her, frowning at Ron. "This is the home of the Bronze Dragonflight, the nexus of time here on Azeroth. The Old Gods have nothing to do with it."

"Oh." Ron looked around, still uneasy. "Well I do no like this. I've seen enough strange visions, I do no want any here."

"If you have a weak stomach, then I suggest you hang back. Birth is rarely pretty, and less so for dragons," Lucy called as she rounded a bend in the caverns.

Ron, Harry and Impa shared a wide eyed look.

"Did she just say dragon's giving birth?" Impa asked. All three broke into a trot after Lucy, hurrying down through the caverns.

They walked for about five minutes, past glowing moonwells, frozen peaks, and burning forests, to a large open chamber where an enormous hourglass stood. Above the hourglass swirled what looked like a galaxy of stars that slowly spun into three glasses that poured down into the main chamber of the hourglass, each slowly rotating in the air. The sand from the main chamber split into three hourglasses that wrapped around one another like serpents, then spilled out from the bottom onto a wide raised dias, atop which sat a great bronze dragon. The dragon was curled up around the sand, her wings folded and eyes closed as though she were sleeping, but her breathing was heavy and labored.

Beside the bronze dragon stood Nalygos, who appeared deeply concerned. His tail was swishing back and forth, and his wings kept fluttering slightly atop his back. Next to the great bronze dragon's head stood Midna and Rosalind, both dressed in brown robes similar to Lucy's. They were both channeling healing spells into the dragon and murmuring softly as they did so.

"Is that Chromie?" Ron asked, squinting. "Don't mean to be rude ifin it ain't, only ever met one bronze dragon before."

Lucy nodded. "That is Chronormu. She is about to give birth to her first clutch. It is a dangerous time. We are warded against the Infinite Dragonflight, but none of us have any experience with dragons giving birth. I would send for help from the reds or greens, but the other flights are forbidden from coming here."

"Well that what's he doing here, he's a blue aye?" Ron demanded, pointing to Nalygos.

"A blue once, but no longer. He has forsaken his flight to mate with Chronormu. He is keyed to the Caverns now, though he has no powers over the sands. But enough. I know you are tired. Jasyn will bring us food and drink. Rest and eat. Rosalind and Midna will tire, and then you may take over for them. I will go and speak to them." Lucy walked over to the dias, and a moment later a stag ran over to them from what appeared to be a goblin seaside tavern.

"Here," Jasyn said, turning back to his night elf form. He passed the four travelers a sack of food and two jugs of wine. "Guess I have to babysit you four. Stay here, don't touch anything, and don't try and go into the other caverns."

"Oh piss off," Ron said, snatching the food and drink away. "I'm too bloody tired to go exploring."

Harry ate quietly, sitting cross legged on the floor and watching Chromie intently. Every so often she would lift her head slightly and say something, but Harry could not make out the words. Midna kept looking back and staring at Harry, because every time he looked in her direction she would meet his eyes then blush and turn around.

"Is it just me or is Midna staring at us?" Harry whispered to Impa.

"No, she is," Impa replied. "Surely you've figured it out by now, right?"

"Figured out what?" Harry demanded. "Do you think she's actually you're time traveling mother or something?"

Impa snorted and almost choked on a bit of bread. Harry patted her back, and Impa took a long drink of wine. "Harry, I love you dearly, but sometimes you cannot see your nose in front of your own face."

Harry tried to see his nose, but failed. He squinted one eye and saw a blur, then shrugged. "I can see my nose if I look for it hard enough. But what does that have to do with Midna?"

"I will tell you, one day, if she does not," Impa said.

Harry looked to Maraad helplessly, but the Vindicator shook his head. "The prophet has spoken of her, and told me to heed her words. I have suspicions, but it is not my place to make guesses about another."

"Probably just has the hots for ye mate," Ron said, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. "The blue ladies just don't seem to be able to keep their hands off ye."

Impa flushed and glared at Ron. "You are vile sometimes, Ronald. I pray whatever woman chooses you has a strong will, for you need taming."

Ron made a rude nose, but then glanced sheepishly at Maraad. The big vindicator gave Ron a mild look, then took the wine jug from him and poured it out on the sand. "You have had enough for now, young man."

"Oh Midna is going to love this," Jasyn chortled to himself. He was sitting a short distance from the others, sharpening a knife. "You three are ridiculous. I can't believe-never mind."

"What is that?" Ron said, looking around and sticking a piny in his ear and wiggling it. "I could swear I heard something, but it's too wee for me to make out properly."

Upon hearing Ron's remark, Jasyn glared at him and growled deep in his throat, but Ron just chuckled and rolled his eyes. "Any time, knife ears. Spirit's you make this too easy."

"Behave, Jasyn," Lucy said, coming back over. She squatted down near the group, eyeing them each in turn. "Soon, Chronormu will begin to lay her eggs. Rosalind and Midna will help her. I will have you all wait to stand by incase she needs additional healing."

"We will be glad to assist," Maraad said, bowing his head. "Though neither Harry nor I specialize in the healing arts."

"I can do a wee bit o' healin' ifin I must," Ron said, eyeing the dragon reluctantly. "Though I'm more o' a fire and lightning sort meself."

Impa stood and dusted off her leather pants. "I will be happy to assist. I have studied the ways of water spirits with Farseer Nobundo extensively, and have several potent water elementals I can call upon."

Lucy stood, baring Impa's way. "Thank you, but please, rest for now. If you are needed, we shall call."

"It is fine, I would like to speak with Minda and Rosalind regardless," Impa said, trying to step around the other woman.

Lucy neatly sidestepped, still standing in the way. Her eyes narrowed, and her smile became somewhat fixed. "Please, sit. You will be called if needed."

The two women stood staring into one another's eyes for a moment, then Impa bowed her head and sat back down with Harry. "Very well. Though I shall speak with them."

"Hmm." Lucy turned away, eyeing Jasyn. "Recall who you are, and who our guests are. I expect the best of you."

Jasyn made a face, but nodded and went back to sharpening his already razor sharp knife.

A short time later, Chromie stood on all fours. She let out low, rumbling cry that reverberated in Harry's chest and filled the chamber. She suddenly squatted, and a large egg the size of a large child plopped down in the sand.

"Ugh," Ron said, making a face and looking away.

"Hush," Impa scolded. "It is how her kind has children. Do not mock it, it is beautiful."

Ron grunted and turned away, laying down on his side on the dusty floor of the chamber. Harry watched in fascination as more eggs plopped down, assisted by Midna and Rosalind. Nalygos took to the air and began to hoover anxiously over the eggs until Rosalind loudly scolded him. The blue dragon reluctantly landed and nuzzled Chromie, who was panting heavily, her eyes closed.

Lucy ran over after several minutes, nodding to Impa. "Your help is needed, but the men should stay here. Nalygos is somewhat...tense...at the moment, and may become unsettled if more males approach the nest."

Impa hurried over, summoning several waters spirits and using them to sooth Chromie as the other women cared for the eggs, gently placing them in a circle near the edge of the flowing sand. The entire process took over an hour, with the eggs coming out in twos or threes every few minutes. In total there were twenty one eggs laid, and the exhausted Chromie curled up around them as the four women tended to her.

Nalygos patrolled around the nest anxiously, eyeing the eggs and his mate with a worried expression. "Will it be enough?" he rumbled, his deep voice echoing in the chamber. Harry couldn't hear Chromie's reply, but Nalygos nodded. "Yes, of course. I shall stay with them. Though I am not of the bronze, our children shall be, and I will guard them with my life."

After a few minutes, Impa came back over, tired but happy. "So many children. I suppose that is how it must be for dragons. Still, she is well, as are the eggs, and I got my chance to speak with Midna and Rosalind when Lucy was busy. I believe I was correct."

"About what?" Harry asked as Impa sat beside him, resting her head on his shoulder.

She giggled and shook her head. "Do you wish to have children, Harry?"

"Of course," Harry agreed, stroking Impa's hair. "As many as you want."

"Bloody hell don't go starting in on that now," Ron grumbled.

"Later," Impa whispered, kissing Harry's cheek. "I am wearied now."

Lucy came over and bowed. "Thank you for your help. I will show you a place to sleep. In the morning you must depart."

Too tired to argue, Harry followed Lucy to a tauren tent set up near the entrance to a cavern. Jasyn took up watch outside the tent, as Harry, Ron and Impa went inside. Maraad paused, frowning and glancing over his shoulder. Midna was staring at him, sitting with her back to the pedestal.

"I must speak with the young draenei for a moment," Maraad said, turning away.

Jasyn glanced at him, then shrugged. "Whatever. Not like you're all that important anyway."

Harry glared at the night elf, but was too tired to do much. He was asleep before Maraad returned, despite his best efforts.

After what felt like only a few minutes but was likely several hours, Harry jerked awake; explosions sounded outside the tent, and bright flashes filled the air.

"He's coming! Bloody hell we tried to stop him but we couldn't, he's coming!"

Harry sprang out of the tent dressed only in a shirt and small clothes, sword and shield in hand, with Impa and the others right behind him. Jasyn had already taken the form of a purple nightsaber and was racing to the middle of the chamber. Nalygos had taken to the air and had began to roar, while Chromie was curled up about her eggs, shielding them with her wings. From the other side of the cavern ran Llane, Midna, and Rosalind, but Lucy was nowhere to be found. The source of the explosions were Fred and George, who had cast several explosive spells in mid air.

"Who's coming?" Harry demanded, running forward.

"The Old Aspect!" Fred called, her eyes wide. "I'm sorry, I was on watch, Fred was sleeping, but I saw him coming and I tried to stop him, but he didn't pay attention he's-"

"Wait, you're Fred," Ron said groggily. "What do you-"

"New week, we switched," the male mage, who was apparently Fred now, said. "Stand ready!"

Before Harry could demand who they were babbling about, the largest bronze dragon Harry had ever seen flew into the cavern and landed not far from them. He did not look like any dragon Harry had ever seen, with jeweled hourglasses hanging in a necklace around his neck and his horns glowing with various odd runes. He was larger even than Nalygos, the same size or larger than his two sisters, the red and green Aspects.

"You!" Nalygos snarled, drawing himself up. "I shall end you here, Mur-"

"It is not the time, son of magic," the great dragon rumbled. "For now, I am Nozdormu the Bronze, Aspect of Time. I am here to see my daughter, and grandchildren. I have come to give my blessing."

"I...but you-" Nalygos paused, clearly confused. He glanced back at Chromie, who had lowered her wing.

"Be at peace. The Hour of Twilight is not yet at hand," Chromie said. She bowed her head to Nozdormu. "Please, Aspect, approach."

Nozdormu shifted, and suddenly a tall elfin man with bronze hair and glowing blue eyes appeared. He had the shape of a high elf, but was as tall as a night elf, and his bare chest was well muscled. His right arm was bare and tattooed with hourglasses entwined by bronze dragons, while his left side bore a pauldron in the same of a dragon's maw holding a vial of sand. He strode forward, the group parting for him. Nalygos shifted as well, taking the form of a short balding gnome with a blue goatee who followed after the Aspect of Time.

"Well no wonder Chromie likes the lad," Ron said, shaking his head. "He's a bloody gnome too."

"Hush," Llane growled, voice echoing slightly inside of the warriors helm. "This is perilous."

Slowly, Nozdormu approached Chromie, who lifted her head up and withdrew her tail, revealing the eggs in her nest. Nozdormu climbed up atop the dias, Nalygos floating up beside him. Placing a hand atop the nearest egg, Nozdormu smiled. He looked up at Chromie and nodded. "A fine clutch. You will do well, my daughter. When the time comes, the mantel will fall to you. You shall bear it well. I have seen it."

"Is it time already?" Chromie asked, her voice raw with pain.

"No, my child. Not yet. I will hold out for a little longer yet. My sand has not yet run out." Nozdormu went to each egg, placing his hand upon them and saying a blessing in the draconic tongue. Nalygos watched the whole process nervously, shuffling back and forth and looking up at Chromie with concern.

For her part, the new mother only watched patiently, her eyes filled with tears that ran silently down her snout.

At last Nozdormu had blessed the last egg. He turned to Nalygos, placing a hand upon the blue dragon's head. "I give you the blessing of time, child of magic. You have forsaken the bonds of your own flight to give my own flight a second chance. Turn back the hands of time, and make this world and all others free. I name you a guardian of time, and give you my blessing my son."

A stream of sand flowed out of the vial in Nozdormu's shoulder, surrounding Nalygos. The dragon's gnome form rose up into the air, glowing as the sand infused him. He suddenly shifted back to his dragon form, wings spread wide and neck and back arched. Bronze bands appeared upon his wing membrane and scales, until his hide was a new color, a blend between the former azure and bronze. Nalygos sank back to the ground. He rose up, examining his chest and wings. He beat the air, then roared his approval.

"I thank you, Aspect. I shall serve your flight well."

"It will not be mine for much longer," Nozdormu said. He shook his head. "My time runs out. I have one last task, then I go to the Hour of Twilight; the End Time. We shall not meet again."

"Father, please, a little longer," Chromie pleaded. Her head bent down and she nuzzled the elfin form of the Aspect. "I am not ready."

"Time waits for no one. Not even the Aspect of Time," Nozdormu said, stroking his daughters snout. He kissed her, then rested his forehead upon her muzzle for a moment. Then he stepped away and looked to the gathered mortals.

"Harry Potter. Impa Potter. Ronald Weasley. We shall meet again. Then, much shall be revealed to you. Take heart, heroes. You may yet save both your worlds."

Then Nozdormu turned to the six strangers. "Children of Fate and Destroyers of Destiny. My Flight's sacrifice was great, and yet it may allow the mortal races to persist. Will you be willing to make the same choice when the time comes?"

"I shall make any sacrifice required of me to save my family, my people," Llane said, kneeling in the sand before the dias.

"We'll do what we have to," the twins declared, and knelt beside Llane.

"The Light guides us," Midna and Impa said, bowing low.

Jasyn frowned and crossed his arms over his chest. "If it means I get my vengeance, I'll gladly spit in the face of death and laugh as I do so."

"Do not give in to corruption, any of you," Nozdormu admonished. He looked to Maraad, and nodded. "Your fate is your own, Son of Argus. What you saw can yet be averted. You must choose the path of sacrifice to save your people."

Maraad put his head to his heart and bowed his head. "I shall not waiver; I walk the Path of the Light. I have spoken with Midna. I know what part I can play now."

Nozdormu shifted, returning to his dragon form. He looked one last time to Chromie as he lifted off into the air. "Farewell, my daughter, my heir. May the Sands of Time flow without end."

And then the Aspect was gone, leaving behind a shimmering cloud of sand.

Llane stood slowly, staring at where the dragon had vanished. The warrior shook their head, then turned to the two mages. "Fred, George, whichever you are at the moment, make a portal. We need to send these travelers on their way. They have seen much, and while I trust the Aspect's judgement, it would be unwise for them to remain here."

"Where to?" Georgina asked.

"Back to Dalaran," Harry said, touching the broken blade at his belt. "We must reforge the sword."

"Perhaps...perhaps that is not the place to reforge a holy blade," Midna said. Llane turned to look at her, but Midna pressed on, looking at Maraad. "Would not the Naaru be the ones best suited to reforging a sword of light?"

"Indeed," Maraad agreed, nodding at Midna. "We should travel to the Sunwell. There, more than the sword can be restored."

"The Sunwell?" Impa demanded. "That's in elven lands! Why should we go there?"

Midna glanced at Llane, then said in a rush, "Quel'Delar is bound to the Sunwell, you must go there. The Sunwell was rekindled by the Naaru M'uru's very essence.. Only in the Light of M'uru can the sword and wielder truly be remade."

"Wielder?" Harry asked in confusion. "Why would-"

"Is that what we must do?" Impa demanded, staring into Midna's eyes. "Is that where your own blade was reforged?"

Midna's hand went to the greatsword on her back, which glowed softly with a warm yellow light, it's silver runes shining as her hand touched the hilt. "Yes. Do you...Remember what I told you? Please, I can say no more, you must-"

MIdna cut off as Impa rushed to her and threw her arms about the other woman. Midna let out a choked sob and buried her face in Impa's shoulder. The two women whispered for a moment, weeping softly. Harry took half a step forward, then hesitated, unsure of what to do. Georgina bit her lip and looked at Ron with a longing expression.

"What?" Ron said, frowning at her. "Ye want to cry on me shoulder? Mayhaps I'll let ye, but yer not really me type girl. Willin' to try though."

"I think I'm going to vomit," Georgina groaned, and turned away. Fred gave Ron a dark look, and patted his sister on the back.

"Right, let's go," Impa said, coming back to Harry and taking his hand. "To Quel'thalas and the Sunwell."

"Alright," Harry said. "I trust you."

The two mages chanted a short spell, and a portal bloomed between them showing a bright city. Harry and the others stepped forward, and left the Caverns of Time behind.


	40. Reforge the Soul

Stepping out of the portal, Harry arrived in a forest beginning to wake up. New growth could be seen budding on the trees and bushes, and grasses were poking up out of the still lingering drifts of snow. Bird song filled the air, and rabbits and other small animals could be seen darting through the brambles. The streams were swollen with snow melt, and fish leapt in the rushing waters. The path Harry stood on was made smooth cobblestones broken by hints of green.

Yet off to the side, the forest rotted, and no snow lay even in the shadows. The plants there were blackened as if burned, and a putrid stench emanated from that section of the woods. There was no new growth, only blighted pestilence that oozed forth as if it were puss from a wound. There was movement in the corrupted wood, but it was not living.

"Undead," Harry hissed, drawing his blade. "Off to the left there. I can sense them." At his side, Quel'Delar pulsed as if hungry for battle, and Harry felt himself drawn towards the undead.

A moment later, two ghouls broke from the dead scar, running over the living grass as they howled and slobbered for blood. Ron threw a fireball at one as Impa fried the other with lightning. They went down, and Harry and Marad stepped forward and purged the bodies, incinerating them in a burst of holy light.

"Foul things," Maraad said, spitting off to the side. "Would that a company of Vindicators were here, we could- wait, something else comes."

There was a clattering of iron and leather on the cobblestones, and Harry and Maraad stepped back onto the path between the new threat and their allies. Through the trees appeared a company of sin'dorei, some mounted upon two legged birds with wicked beaks, others running on foot or mounted on chargers.

"This is the location of the arcane anomaly, Lady Lindarin," one of the mounted elves said.

"So I see, captain," the blood knight matriarch said. She dismounted, handing her reins off to her daughter and stepped forward. "Champion Maraad. A surprise to find you within my woods. Have you been sent to aid in the spring cleansing?"

"I fear not," Maraad said, bowing formally. "We come on a mission from the Highlord Fordring himself. We have retrieved the hilt and blade of Quel'Delar, and have come to reforge it within the Light of the Sunwell. Harry Potter must deliver the blade there himself."

That announcement brought gasps and mutters of astonishment from the elves. Even Lady Lindarin appeared shocked for a moment before she regained her composure. "Quel'Delar, the High Blade itself? That is a great claim to make; the Sunwell is our most sacred place, few even among the sin'dorei are allowed within it."

Slowly, Harry brought forth the blade and hilt, holding them up so that those gathered could see them. The hilt still seemed little more than a battered lump, while the blade was blackened and twisted.

"May I?" Lindarin asked, and Harry put the blade and hilt in her hands. She studied them for a moment, then muttered a short prayer. The hilt and blade glowed softly, and Lindarin gasped. Reverently, she returned the shards to Harry, a radiant grin upon her face. "Indeed, those are the shards of the blade. We must ride for Quel'thalas at once! Mounts for Champion Maraad and his companions!"

They rode along the cobblestone path for several miles, occasionally crossing over the tainted scar within the forest. The first time, Harry hesitated, glancing down at the blackened soil. "What is this?"

"It is the Tainted Scar," a familiar voice said. Harry looked up to see Salandria, daughter of the Blood Knight Matriarch riding alongside him upon a snowy white hawkstrider. "This is where Arthas and the Scourge walked on their path to Quel'Thalas."

Harry followed after Salandria as she rode out on the the fouled ground. The ground was soggy and gave way as they rode out over the taint, releasing a stench that made Harry wrinkle his nose. They had not gone far when several skeletons and ghouls rose up out of the ground, grasping and clawing at the horses. The Blood Knights and Magisters raised their hands, unleashing a barrage of spells. Still, one of the hawkstriders had to be put down after it's legs were mauled by the undead, and its corpse burned and doused in holy water.

"Is it always like this?" Harry asked Salandria.

The young blood elf pursed her lips. "No. It used to be much worse. It has been nearly ten years since the Kinslayer and his minions invaded, but it is only with constant effort we can drive back the taint and cleanse the land. That is why we were out on patrol. We must daily fight back the undead that rise up out of the scar."

"Wouldn't it run out of bodies eventually?" Harry asked, looking across towards the unblighted forest beyond. The scar itself was about five hundred yards across at its wider points, though in places it narrowed to under two hundred.

"Two and a half million elves died in the war. And an uncounted number of wildlife, trolls, and the Scourge themselves fell as well. The tainted scar draws all that death into itself, and the dead that have been within this land for years. No, Potter. I do not think this scar will ever run short of death."

They crossed the Tainted Scar twice more on their way to the city, each time needed to fight off the ravaging undead. Harry saw blighted wildlife attack as well, and it had to be burned and cleansed least they too become horrors.

At last they broke through the trees and out onto a wide open meadow, filled with buzzing insects and blossoming flowers. The Tainted Scar ran like an infected wound up the length of the meadow, and to the golden walls of a once great city that had largely fallen to ruin.

"Behold, the fallen city of the Quel'Dorei," Lady Lindarin proclaimed, reining in her charger. "Quel'thalas: The Shining City." She bowed her head for a moment, as did all of the other elves.

Indeed, though much of the city was now rubble and the gleaming metal and stone tarnished and shattered, the city was a sight to behold. Once, it would have rivaled Stormwind in size and population, and outstripped it in grandeur. A few spires still rose up into the air, elegant needles that seemed to pierce the heavens themselves. But the there was life in the city: no banners flew from on high, no sound could be heard from its squares, and no one walked the walls.

"It is little more than a tomb now," Salandria said quietly to Harry. "We have a few enclaves, but even if we were to cleanse all of the Tainted Scar, we have not the population to rebuild. There are just over a hundred thousand of us left, where once there were nearly three million quel'dorei. But we continue on, the High Born no longer. Now we are Children of the Blood: the Sin'dorei."

"The Sin'dorei killed my father," Impa said to no one in particular. She had a tight grip on her reins, and seemed to be trembling slightly. "They took Tempest Keep, and enslaved or slaughtered the draenei who called it home."

"We...all have lost much," Salandria said, looking away. "I lost my father as well to Arthas' armies."

Impa hesitated a moment, then extended a hand to Salandria. "May he find peace in the Light."

"May your father find peace as well," Salandria said, taking Impa's hand. "Kael'thas' betrayal cut us all deep."

They rode up to the ruined city, and Harry saw that not all of it was abandoned. One section of the walls had been repaired, and guards walked it. The gates stood open, but were whole and guarded by magisters and paladins in golden armor. The red phoenix of Silvermoon flew above the gates, seeming to cry it's defiance against the decay around it.

"Make way!" Lady Lindarin ordered as the party approached the gates. "These travelers come bearing the shards of Quel'Delar! The High Blade is restored to us!"

The guards cheered and stepped aside, and soon the causeway was lined with elves who were all shouting and clapping as rode through the enclave. Despite the ruins that surrounded them, the elves Harry saw were all dressed in fine clothes and were well kept. Even more so than Stormwind, magic was all around around them. Great arcane constructs patroled the streets, and enchanted brooms swept away dust as magical carts rolled along pulled only by arcane enchantments.

Here Harry saw just how fantastic Quel'Thalas once had been: each building gleamed with dressed sandstone and marble that had fresh paint and gilding upon it. Silken banners hung everywhere tended gardens lined the streets, and canals with clear crystalline water flowed like streams through the city. Barges floated along, powered by glowing arcane crystals linked to leylines that surged through the enclave.

Though Silvermoon was clearly a thriving city, there were clear signs it was not what it had once been. Buildings at the edges of the enclave had been fortified and were heavily guarded by golems and soldiers. Glowing defense matrix crystals lined the walkway, and the air above hummed with holy protective power against undead incursions. Even the citizenry were armed with magic wands, staves, blades, and bows. There were few young elves and even fewer elderly ones; the weak and vulnerable had been culled by the Scourge.

They made their way up through the city until they came to the canal dockyards. There Lady Lindarin and her daughter escorted the four travelers onto a barge, which soon made it's way through the canals out onto a narrow channel of the North Sea. Across the waters, Harry saw a small island, only a few square miles in size. At the highest point of the mountain stood a great citadel, marred by the Tainted Scar. However, unlike at other points, this part of the blighted area appeared to be slowly healing.

"I sense a great power of the Light," Harry said as the barge propelled itself across the channel. "It is almost as though one of the Naaru reside within that fortress."

"In a way, one does," Lady Lindarin said, coming to the prow of the boat to stand beside Harry. "It is the Sunwell, the source of the Sin'dorei's power. It was cleansed and reignited by the Naaru M'uru. It gave its life that we might once more grow as a people."

"And where we've got to reforge that sword," Ron said, nodding. "I take it ye've got smiths that can help with that?"

Lindarin frowned at Ron, her eyes narrowing. "Elven smiths are the finest in the world."

Ron made a rude noise. "I think the dwarves would have a wee bit to say about that."

"Do you claim to be a smith, human?" Salandria demanded.

Ron puffed out his chest and thumped it. "I be a smith o' the Wildhammer clan. Trained by Douglas Forgelight at the Aerie."

"Well, I am certain you will learn something from watching our masters at work then," Lindarin said, turning back around. Before Ron could protest, the boat glided up to the dock at the foot of the Citadel, and the disembarked.

"Lady Lindarin!" a guard captain called, running forward with a group of elves armored in scarlet and bearing tall shield and double bladed glaives. "Why do you bring outsiders here?"

"These champions have retrieved the blade and hilt of Quel'Delar," Lindarin stated. "We have come to reforge the High Blade, that it might Light the way against the Kinslayer himself."

"The High Blade is returned to us?" the captain gasped. "Of course, please, come at once! The Regent Lord is within the Sunwell this very day."

As they made their way through the Citadel, Harry saw signs of battle everywhere. The stones were blackened in faces, and Harry detected traces of vile magics, both the fel and necromancy.

"This place has seen battle many times," Maraad rumbled, shaking his head. "Like the people who now man it, it has emerged from the trial of blood."

"Indeed. More than one foe has attempted to claim the power of the Sunwell for themselves," Lady Lindarin agreed. "Both demon and undead have breached these halls, yet now we have reclaimed our birthright. And with Quel'Delar restored, none shall ever take it from us again."

They moved deep within the Citadel, past barricades and magical barriers. The Citadel was filled with blood elves, many guards, but others pilgrims seeking to bask in the radiance of the Sunwell. Many took up the cry that Quel'Delar was returned to them as word spred, bowing and offering prayers of thanks as Harry and the others went by.

At last they came to a wide ramp that lead in a downward spiral. At the bottom they found a great chamber at the center of which stood a well of pure Light. It was nearly fifty feet across, and to stand in its radiance was to know the warmth and Light of the sun. A song seemed to fill the air, a song much like the Song of the Naaru, but in many ways subtly different.

Lindaran took out the blade and hilt, passing them to Maarad. "Champion, you have restored the blade to our people, but it is not yet cleansed. I give this sacred task to you, in honor of your service."

Maraad looked down at the blade, and a pained look crossed his face, he closed his eyes, then shook his head. "This is not my burden to bear. Here, Harry. It is you who must be purified in the Light of the Sunwell."

Harry took the broken halves of the sword and made to move forward, but hesitated. He turned to the others, his eyes locking with Impa. "I did not do this alone. We did this, together. We should complete our journey as one."

Hesitantly, Impa came forward, placing her hands over the hilt and blade in Harry's hands. He smiled at her and nodded, and they moved forward as one. As they got closer, Harry's eyes began to water from the intensity of the Light, but with Impa at his side he did not falter. Together they dipped first the hilt, then the Blade, within the liquid pool of Light. As he did so Harry felt a sudden pain in his head, but the joy of the Song of Light pushed the pain away. Slowly, he and Impa withdrew, coming back to stand with they others. Harry and Impa had to lean upon one another, for they had been nearly blinded by the intensity of the Sunwell.

"Bloody hell mate, your scar!" Ron exclaimed. A dark blurr stepped forward, putting a finger on Harry's forehead. "It's bleeding! There's blood and puss everywhere!" Harry felt a touch of cold wetness on his forehead suddenly, and put his hand to his head. It came away warm and sticky, and Harry tasted iron in his mouth.

"Well that didn't do anything," Ron muttered. "I tried to heal it Harry but nothing happened! Yer still bleeding like stuck pig."

"Hmph, allow me you clumsy oaf," Silandria ordered. Harry felt his head seized in soft hands, and a surge of Light flowed through him. "Damnation! Mother, you must look at this, the wound will not close!"

Harry felt himself growing lightheaded and stumbled, dropping the blade and hilt. Impa caught him in her arms, and slowly lowered him. "Harry, it will be alright," Impa said firmly, though Harry could hear the edge of panic in her voice. "Lady Lindarin, help me. We must carry him to the well."

The voices of the others slowly faded. Harry felt as though he were drifting off to sleep. He looked over and saw the Light of the Sunwell dimming. He tried to reach out to it, but could not. Suddenly he heard a cry and felt himself drop. He looked up and dimly saw the face of Impa, tears streaming down her face. She reached down and grabbed Harry, dragging him forward. Suddenly she toppled over and Harry fell down with her into molten light.

The pain in Harry's forehead flared, then suddenly faded as his entire body felt as though it was dipped in liquid metal. He tried to scream, but the searing liquid entered into his lungs. He could no cough or breath as fire engulfed him, reaching through his skin and into his bones. He reached out and felt Impa, who was still gripping him. He clung to her, embracing her as his body seemed to dissolve.

And then suddenly, the pain was gone. Where a moment before he had felt as though every fiber of his being was being ignited in seering agony, now a warm wave of soothing bliss washed over him. A surge of energy filled Harry, and he gripped Impa tightly. She in turn pulled him close and clung to him. To Harry's surprise, he felt her bare skin with his own, their clothing and armor having been seared away. Harry opened his eyes and found himself looking through a golden sea into Impa's eyes. She was staring at him wide eyed, and for a moment Harry simply basked in the beauty of her gaze. Though he was immersed in liquid, he felt no need to breath, nor weakness from lack of air.

Suddenly, Harry realized that Impa's eyes were no longer a soft blue, but glowed with a fierce yellow light, like the Naaru. In shock Harry suddenly stood up, his head breaking the surface of the pool. Impa stood with him, and for a moment they stood together, gazing at one another was joy and peace washed over them.

Then Harry realized someone close by was shouting and swearing profusely. He turned to see Lindarin and Maraad restraining Ron as Salandria looked on in horror. Ron's face was red and his fists were burning with flame.

"-go of me ye water drinkin' piss blooded cowards! Harry and Impa are bloody dying and ye can't stop me from-"

"Ron, we're fine," Harry called, leaning on Impa. He no longer felt weak, but it felt good to have her so close to him. "Really, it's alright."

"Harry," Impa whispered, her lips close to his ear. "Your hair, your eyes...your skin...what has happened?"

"I don't know," Harry whispered back, grinning at Impa. "But it feels amazing. Something happened to you too."

Indeed, Impa's hair had gone from a blue black to golden blonde, and her skin was the color of light ash. A glowing rune had grown on her forhead, a mark of the Naaru M'uru. For Harry's part, his hair was now platinum blonde, while his green eyes now had flecks of gold in them. His scar was gone completely, replaced by a symbol identical to Impa's branding him as one of the Naaru's chosen. His skin was now deeply tanned, an almost metallic bronze color.

Together Harry and Impa climbed out of the Sunwell. To Harry's surprise, he was completely dry, the liquid light immediately evaporating as soon as he stepped out of the pool. He and Impa walked forward, their skin glowing slightly. Strength ran through Harry's body, and it was a struggle to remember he had been bleeding to death only moments before.

"What the bloody buggering hell," Ron muttered as Maraad and Lindarin let go of him. He ran forward, putting a hand on Harry's shoulder. "Mate, what in the name of thunder and all the elements has happened to you?"

"I don't know," Harry said slowly as Lindarin and her daughter quickly removed their cloaks and draped them about Harry and Impa to cover them. "I feel as though I've been remade. Reborn as a new man."

"First yer blood scar starts bleedin' and then ye go and jump in the great bloody pool and now ye look like someone's polyjuiced ya," Ron babbled. "Mate I don't know what-"

"What is the meaning of this?" a new voice demanded. Harry turned to see Lor'themar Theron striding down the ramp towards them, his single eye glaring at Harry and Impa. "What are these interlopers doing violating our most sacred place! Bathing in the Sunwell! Lady Lindarin, explain yourself at once!"

"My Lord, these heroes have brought us Quel'Delar, and they-"

Lor'themar slashed his hand through the air, cutting Lindarin off. "I am aware of such. But even the return of the High Blade itself does not give them the right to bath in the Sunwell! Do you not recall what happened the last time outsiders were allowed to violate our well?"

"The Blood Knights remember the dark days, and the sacrifice that was needed to cleanse the Sunwell from the Kinslayer's profane acts," Lindarin said, her tone dark as she placed a hand on the sword at her side. "But Harry Dragonblessed was dying. His scar opened up, and he was rapidly bleeding to death. No magic seemed to aide him. I myself attempted to bring him to the Sunwell to heal him when it flared up. I was driven back, but Impa selflessly flung herself into the Sunwell to save her husband. See how the Light has blessed them!"

"Perhaps," Lor'themar allowed. "But it does not give them the right to violate our most sacred relic. Captain Lothan, retrieve the blade. Then we shall see to these outsiders."

One of the guards moved forward to take the hilt and blade from the floor where Harry had dropped them. As he reached down to touch them, the blade suddenly glowed, and the captain cried out, realing back and clutching his hand.

"What is this?" Lor'themar hissed, stepping forward towards Harry. "What have you done to the sword!"

"They have done nothing!" Lindarin snapped, blocking the Regent Lord's path. "They returned and cleansed the blade within the Sunwell! Do you not think that Quel'Delar recognizes the greed and pride within you now?"

Lor'Themar hesitated, frowning. He too reached for the sword, but winced and had to withdraw when a lance of light struck his fingers. "Damnation. You, Lindarin. Take up the sword. It must be reforged."

"I think Quel'Delar has already chosen its wielder," Lindarin said calmly. She knelt, passing a hand over the blade and hilt. They glowed slightly, and she shook her head, withdrawing. "I cannot. The blade has passed beyond the hands of the Sin'dorei. We are still stained by our sins."

"What the bloody hell is wrong with ye," Ron demanded. He reached down, plucking up the blade and hilt. "Look, it's just two hunks of metal and- ow!" Ron flinched as the blade suddenly glowed brightly. "Alright, alright, yer a bloody brilliant sword I suppose. Once yer reforged that is. But we still need to craft this into a real weapon instead o' two bits of metal."

"Ronald, it seems the sword has chosen you," Lindarin said, regarding him thoughtfully. "You claim to be a smith, could you reforge the sword?"

"Well, I mean, I'm just a journeyman," Ron temporized. "But I mean, I've forged swords before. Aye, I suppose I could fix it, though there isn't enough metal left to make a great bloody sword like this thing used to be."

"Will you allow this blade to be reforged, Regent, or will you continue this petty squabble while our enemies strength grows?" Lindarin demanded.

Lor'themar hesitated, glancing at Harry and Impa. His one eye narrowed, and his eye patch seemed to glare at them. "Will you swear to never bear this blade against the Sin'dorei? To use it to defend this city and her people against all foes, even the Alliance? We may have peace today, but humans have short memories. The Sin'dorei do not."

"I swear to always act only in service with the Light," Harry swore, kneeling before the regent Lord. "I will defend all people, not just the Sin'dorei, against evil. If the Sin'dorei walk in the Light, I shall ever be there to aide them. And should you stray, I will give my life to guide you back to the right path."

"Hmph. Good enough. Were we not so desperate to destroy Arthas before he unleashes the Scourge once more, I would bind you in the dungeons for violating the Sunwell. But for now, you have my clemency. You, Ronald Godsbane, will reforge that sword. For when the last snow melts, the Sin'dorei march, and Quel'Delar must be there to guide them."

\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\\\/\/\/\\\/\/\/\/\\\/\/\/\/\/\/

The forge Ron was lead to wasn't like the one Douglas used back home in the Hinterlands. Home. Ron realized that he no longer thought of Earth that way. He picked up the forge hammer and placed Reth's totem in the furnace. It was odd, powered by some elvish magic, probably arcane, that Ron didn't understand.

"Come on boy, we've got work to do. You there! Bring me fuel! Not arcane namby pamby crap, something Reth here can burn."

The master smith Ron had yelled at ordered and apprentice to fetch coal and wood. Soon Ron had Reth burning so hot that most of the elves had to retreat from the furnace, and bits of the gilding and engraving on the furnace began to melt. Ron ignored the heat, calling upon earth and water to shield him from it, and trusting to Reth the he wouldn't make it lethal. The elemental swirled in the furnace, greedily feasting upon the fuel brought him. Ron placed the twisted blade of Quel'delar into the furnace along with bars of truesilver and titanium, and began to heat them while he examined the hilt.

As Ron worked, his mind wandered. He knew people thought he was thick, what with the accent that he affected less and less of the time as it became natural for him. But he wasn't a fool. He just had to play the part sometimes.

"Damn you, Varian," Ron snarled, putting some of his anger and frustration into the stroke of the hammer. He forced himself to calm, closing his eyes.

Ron had known something was going on after Ulduar and seeing Ginny with Anduin. Even before his long midnight talk with Varian, he'd figured out that someone, or something, was playing havoc with time and visions. True, he'd not wanted to admit that, but Ron recalled what the king had told him.

"It seems all too likely to me that it was your sister you saw at the Dark Portal, leading our people to safety from this Voldemort and his Scourge," Varian had said. "This confirms what I suspected about Llane as well: they are my own child."

"But I did no see Llane or even a boy in the vision," Ron protested.

"True, but you say your sister looked to be in her twenties. Only ten years hence. That means that Llane would have been a small child. Perhaps I remarried around the same time Anduin took your sisters hand," Varian mused. "I must have fallen already, and likely Anduin as well. That would leave your sister as regent until Llane came into their own."

"But then what the bloody hell is Llane and Rosalind and Midna even doing here? And who the bloody hell are they?" Ron had demanded, his mind overwhelmed by the thought of time travel on such massive scale.

"Isn't it obvious? They seek to prevent whatever it is that lead to the fall of Stormwind and the Scourge overrunning all of Azeroth. I do not yet know who the others are for certain, but it seems likely they too are from the future. After all, did they not come in the company of a Bronze Dragon?" Varian asked. "Indeed, some of them could even be your own children."

"Bloody time travel," Ron muttered as he began to repair the hilt, beating it back into shape and adding bits of mithril and adamantium the elves had to repair it. "So, I named me kids after Fred and George, did I?"

It was the only thing that made sense. That girl, whatever her name was damn her, was surely his own daughter. She looked like a Weasley, with her red hair and freckles, and she dressed like a woman of the clans. And she had Reth. Ron had felt her elemental, and it was an older, stronger version of Reth. What his elemental would grow into one day. And the way she acted around him…

"Probably shouldn't have flirted with her," Ron said to Reth. It was so confusing though. He was a virgin, he had no children, and Lucy and Fred (or Georgina) were beautiful women. He was attracted to them, and the conflicting feeling had lead to anger, which of course had resulted in Ron running his mouth. If it had helped in his deception, well, that was the silver lining.

Putting aside his thoughts, Ron retrieved the blade and ingots and began the process of reforging it. Somehow it felt as though something was guiding his hands, the spirit of the sword dictating how it should be formed and shaped. Ron knew how it should look: like the great big pig sticker Midna carried around.

"Harry's girl. My kids. So who're the others?" Ron hammered the blade, then heated it again once it began to cool and turned back to remaking the hilt. He'd have to heat that as well soon, but he wanted to bang it out a bit first.

"That boy does no look like me. But that spell he cast to save Harry. I remember that one. Hermione used to lecture me about it." He pitched his voice to a mockery of what 11 year old Hermione's had been. "Its levi-OH-sa, not levi-o-SAH. Bloody buggering hell. Wonder if I could still cast it." Ron pointed his finger at a pair of tongs. "Wingardium Leviosa!"

The tongs floated up for a few seconds, then clanged back down. Ron grunted. "Not me brand of magic no more, eh boy?" Reth didn't answer, still happily consuming the fuel the elves had dumped into the furnace.

Ron hammered away, contemplating things for a bit. He and Varian had worked out Lucy and Llane, but the others... "Rosalind's Herminone's girl. Ragnaros' tits she did turn into a bloody demon. Bugger me blind, but I should kill that woman. Have to talk to Varian again. Can't let Hermione betray us to the Legion or Voldemort."

Last they had talked Varian had charged Ron to investigate, but not to tip their hand.

"We must learn more, but we should also be cautious," the king had said. "There must be a reason my child and niece have not confided in us. While I will not stand idle, we also cannot afford to disrupt their plans entirely. Perhaps they wish to avoid a paradox."

"And Voldemort's a damned Lich o' the Scourge," Ron growled. "That does no bode well for me home. I have to find a way back."

"Focus on that," Varian agreed. "It is likely that the threat to Azeroth stems in no small part from Earth. Seek this Odyn you have spoken of, and look for other ways home. At the same time, keep an eye out for more time travelers. This Infinite Dragonflight is composed of Corrupted Bronzes, they pose a great threat, and should be checked."

Ron nodded, playing with his empty glass of spirits. "Aye, I'll do what I can, but I'm only but one man. Should we tell Ginny and Anduin of this? What about Vanessa?"

"Vanessa I have confided in. It is only fair, as I believe her to be Llane's mother. Llane's actions seem to confirm this, as they were rather concerned with saving her life. As for my eldest and your sister… for now we must keep them ignorant. Harry and this Hermione as well. When the time comes, I am certain Llane and the others shall tell them."

Ron finished repairing the hilt, and concentrated on the blade. He found himself attuning with the elemental light within the sword, and allowed it to guide his hand even more. It was like listening to the spirits, but this spirit knew the sword, and Ron wanted a sword for Harry so that he wouldn't have to see his friend die again.

"But he did no look so odd in me vision," Ron pondered as he worked. "That Harry was just an older version o' the one I knew. But this one...Harry's changed. Hope he's still me mate, but he would have to go and get bloody religious on me."

"Jasyn, Jasyn. Has to be Neville's he does. The girl mentioned he was with the Night Elves. Guess Neville found himself a nice elf girl. Have to admit, I fancy the night elves more than the skinny weaklings round here. Their women got some nice muscle on them. Too tall for me own tastes though."

Ron worked through the night and into the day. Though he wearied, he drew strength from the flame and the Light within the sword, and pressed on. He continued to ponder what he had seen and learned. "Got to talk to someone. Not Harry. Don't know if he's got this thing figured, but Impa's a smart lass. She'll square him away. Have to talk to Varian. He'll know what to make of all this. I'm bloody lost. Why are me own kids older than me when I ain't even been laid yet? Not bloody right that is."

As the sun began to set, Ron at last lay aside his hammer and called Reth back into the totem. He frowned down at the sword he had made. It looked like Midna's blade in some ways, it had the same glowing runes, and was shaped much the same way, but this one was smaller, half the size of the other. The runes upon it glowed with a pure white light instead of the yellow of Midna's, and yet somehow it felt right to Ron. He lifted the sword in one hand, testing the balance. He swung it a bit, and nodded.

"Aye, yer not for me are ye. Never fear me beauty. I'll give ye to the one ye was meant for."

Ron walked outside, finding Harry and Impa waiting in a small garden. They stood as he exited, and Ron held out the sword towards Harry.

"Heard ye might be facin' the Kinslayer. It's dangerous to go alone. Take this."

Harry accepted the sword, and it suddenly glowed, burning with a pure white light that was reflected in its wielder. Grinning at Ron, Harry nodded. "It feels perfect. Thank you."

"Don't thank me yet," Ron grunted. "Wait till after it's done it's job."

 _And don't thank me for lyin' to ye, mate,_ Ron thought.

Ron turned away, looking across the narrow channel towards ruined Quel'thalas, and the Dead Scar. "We've got to keep that from happening everywhere. Come on. Times wastin.'"


End file.
